


Predators

by RenkonNairu



Category: DCU (Comics)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Werewolf, Anal Fingering, Anal Knotting, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Furry Sex, Furry Sex in later chapters, Gothic Romance, Knotting, Knotting in later chapters, Kon starts off as a top but then becomes versatile, M/M, Pulp, Tim starts off as a bottom but becomes versatile, pulp romance, toe sucking, versatile, werewolf!Kon
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-09-27
Updated: 2017-09-17
Packaged: 2017-11-15 03:37:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 59,386
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/522723
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RenkonNairu/pseuds/RenkonNairu
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Gift fic for SouriMaxwellYuy068 from ff.n.</p><p>Her request:<br/>"I want an AU where Kon is a half-werewolf (Luthor side [just to give it a twist on the whole clone thing]) and he's on the hunt for his mate. Tim is the adopted son of a werewolf hunter Bruce Wayne, tasked with killing the heir to the werewolf clan (Kon). What happens when they meet?"</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Meeting by Moonlight

**Author's Note:**

  * For [RedHimiko18](https://archiveofourown.org/users/RedHimiko18/gifts).



> I don't usually go in for long author's notes at the very beginning of a fic. But I think in this case its necessary. 
> 
> This is a gift-fic for SouriMaxwellYuy068. Her request was an AU romance where Superboy was a werewolf and Red Robin a werewolf hunter. I kicked the idea around in my head for a bit, debating between making it a modern werewolf story like "An American Werewolf in London" or going for high fantasy. I decided that IF I went with fantasy, I couldn't call Metropolis "Metropolis", so I went to the DC Wiki for find a suitable substitute. The main article on Metropolis had this interesting tid-bit:
> 
> "During the "Devil's Winter Siege", the city was defended by Tomahawk's rangers, most notably Dan Hunter, in whose honor the settlement was renamed as Fort Hunter, later Hunterville and later still Hunter City."
> 
> That would be between 1776 and 1782. I then instantly imagined Superboy in a waistcoat and breeches and my head exploded. 
> 
> So, this fic takes place in an AU that vaguely resembles colonial America but without that pesky little Revolutionary War getting in the way of the shameless pulp romance. 'Hunterville' is Metropolis, Gotham is Gotham, and 'alienus' is the old Latin derivative for "alien". I was thinking of calling Clark a 'starman' instead, but I think the Latin works better and doesn't sound like I'm trying to hard to be 'high fantasy'.

On a clear winter night, not a cloud in the sky and the waning moon high in the sky, hunting was child’s play. Everything made tracks in the snow. On a cloudless night the light of the moon and stars made them easy to spot. So long as he stayed down-wind of his quarry, Tim’s success was assured.

This would be his first mission alone. His first solo. 

The target was unusual. Unusual for a werewolf, that is. He was the only son of the alpha of the Hunterville pack. That was not the unusual thing. What was strange was the this new mature-subordinate wolf was supposed to be in his late teens, just a few years short of Tim’s own age, yet he appeared out of the blue only a few years ago. Add that to the fact that Lex Luthor didn’t even have a mate and had never had one (to the best of their knowledge) and it was a curious case indeed. 

Tim followed the trail of prints in the snow –foot prints, not paw prints and that was also odd. Most werewolves preferred to hunt in their wolf forms. He had been following his quarry for several hours now and seen no indication of a transformation. As Tim tracked the wolf, he went over in his mind everything that he knew about Conner Luthor.

He first appeared three years ago, already at the age of sixteen. Luthor claimed the boy was his illegitimate son from a mistress, but no one in the bat-clan believed that. Werewolves were not exactly promiscuous types. But Luthor was a rich and influential member of the community and rich and influential men were sort of expected to have illicit relationships with women of questionable moral fabric. So, his claim of having fathered a bastard child went unchallenged by the public at large.

Bruce asked Kal-El about the Luthor-cub once. Tim’s adopted father and leader of the bat-clan had a personal vendetta against all things werewolf, ever since his parents were killed by one when he was just a child. He did not like the appearance of any new werewolf, even a teenaged bastard one. But Kal-El had been uncommonly tight-lipped on the subject of Conner Luthor. He did, however, forbid Bruce and any members of the bat-clan from hunting within his town. And that was also strange; usually Kal-El welcomed their help when Hunterville’s wolf problem got a bit to much. Werewolves were creatures of magic and Kal-El was embarrassingly terrible at combating the stuff.

But Bruce and Kal were friends, so while he didn’t like it, the bat-clan’s leader acquiesced to the _alienus’_ request and no member of the bat-clan set foot within Hunterville limits since. 

But they weren’t in Hunterville limits now…

Tim kept to the trees, running with his knees bent, keeping low to the ground, staying down wind. The young Luthor’s prints intersected with those of a deer and angled away to the east. Tim altered his coarse accordingly. Bruce taught him how to track and how prints could sometimes tell a story. When he first started following Conner, the prints had been leisurely, as if he were just out for a walk in the woods. When the tracks intersected with the deer’s they became more hurried, as if the young werewolf had just decided on the spur of the moment to go for a hunt. Conner hunted the deer and Tim hunted Conner, it was almost like a _ballet comique_.

There was a large disturbance in the snow where the deer and had fallen and struggled. But it managed to get back up and get away; the tracks continued onward arching south-east now. There was just the tiniest bit of blood speckling the otherwise pure-white snow. The young Luthor had managed to wound his prey. They both shouldn’t be to far ahead now.

Tim found an easily climbable tree and scaled it. When dealing with werewolves, it was always best to have the high ground. He picked his way from branch to branch, moving from tree to tree, making slow progress, always checking the trail on the forest floor below him to make sure he was still following his quarry. 

The trail opened up onto a small clearing, lit by the light of the stars and waning moon. There, in the center of the clearing, bent over his fresh kill, was the naked form of Conner Luthor. If there was any doubt in Tim’s mind that the man was a werewolf, it was erased the moment he saw him naked in the snow. No normal human could withstand the chill and not succumb to hypothermia and die. But Conner looked as comfortable as if it were a warm summer night. His immaculate, unblemished flesh haloed by the light of the moon. 

Conner’s back was to him. This would be to easy! Tim withdrew from his belt a silver bladed baterang and raised his arm to aim, taking into account the light breeze, which was just strong enough to throw off his shot. But before the silver bladed weapon could leave his grasp, a very unlucky thing happened. 

The wind changed. 

Tim was suddenly crouching upwind of the werewolf. Smelling of leather, and silver and human. 

He grit his teeth and suppressed the urge to curse. Instead he threw the batarang. But Conner was no longer there and the silver blade sliced uselessly into the abandoned deer carcass. Tim knew werewolves were faster than normal humans, but he’d never seen one move that fast before. He glanced around wildly, desperate to pin-down a visual on his quarry, only to have his heart stop when he felt a hand close around his wrist, pinning it behind his back, another arm encircling his waist. 

Somehow, Conner Luthor had managed to avoid his batarng and scale his tree to get the drop on him all within the blink of an eye!

…

Conner Luthor thought about leaving his father’s pack many times. He thought about finding a mate and starting a new pack of his own. Somewhere warm, and tropical, and sunny, maybe an island somewhere. Some place where his mate could run on the sand or splash in the water in naught but her underclothes –or better yet, nothing at all. He could build a Compound on the island and it would be so remote that no werewolf hunters or other werewolves would ever bother them, and his father couldn’t breath down his neck all the time, and his other sire might finally get the message and leave him alone.

But first he needed a mate.

Conner had been looking for a mate for some time now. The first woman he courted was Tana Moon. She was slightly older than him (depending on how one chose to define 'slightly'). But she was energetic and adventurous. Not to mention wildly attractive with her own unique exotic beauty that made him want to do all manner of scandalous and unseemly acts with her behind closed door. (And, yes, her last name was ‘Moon’ so there might also have been a bit of an inside joke to it as well.) But after three months of courtship she passed away tragically. He never even had the chance to tell her he was half-werewolf. 

Conner observed the requisite mourning period after Tana’s death, a time which his father filled with unwelcome commentary on his choice in partner and inability to protect one human female. How did he ever expect to sire and keep a whole pack if he couldn’t even keep one woman? To all of these remarks Conner only snarled and stormed out of the room. Sometimes Kal-El would corner him while out, in the park or overlooking the bay, and offer his own bit of ‘helpful’ advice. But his second sire’s council was about as welcome as his father’s snide commentary and he mostly ignored the _alienus_.

The second person he courted was Cassandra Elizabeth Sandsmark and, as her obnoxiously long name would imply, she was simply to good for him. Their courtship was one of propriety and restraint, consisting greatly of funny looks and smiles. Meetings and outings were chaperoned by her sister, Diana, and the most physically intimate they ever became with one another was to hold hands under the table at a dinner function. She had all the fiery passion and adventurous spirit Conner always imagined his perfect mate having. She was clever and fearless and never backed down from a challenge –not even when it was in her better interest to. But there was just no spark between them. She didn’t set his blood on fire and, he assumed, he didn’t do the same for her.

So, it came as no surprise when her valet appeared one day with a letter addressed to him. She had gone on an expedition with her mother to explore the ancient ruins of such-and-such and she didn’t know how long she would be gone. But she had valued their time together and would hold him in her thoughts yada-yada. But please don’t wait for me. 

So, Conner didn’t wait. 

He packed up a bag and left Hunterville that very evening. It was a waning moon, an ominous time to start a journey, but he wanted to get out sooner rather than later, if for no other reason than to avoid his father’s ridicule or his other sire’s sympathy. He didn’t really have a plan, wasn’t sure where he was going. Conner just picked a direction and started walking.

It was one of those clear winter nights were there wasn’t a cloud in the sky and light of the moon and stars reflected off the immaculate snow to give the woods an almost ‘fairy land’ feel. It made the half-wolf want to run wild in the twinkle-play of light on snow. So, he struck out off the main road and took to the trees.

Selecting a spot far from the beaten path he hung his travel bag on a tree limb and stripped off his clothing. Werewolves were resistant to the elements as a general rule, at least, more resistant than normal humans tended to be. But thanks to the _alienus_ blood inherited from his other sire, Conner was practically invulnerable to the cold and he stripped down until he was wearing nothing but a smile and his pride. The clothing was hung next to his bag and then he was off at a leisurely jog. 

Conner couldn’t transform. 

Not fully. Not at will. Definitely not without the help of the full moon. 

So no transformations tonight. But that wouldn’t stop him from enjoying an almost perfect winter night. Of course, there was very little in this world that could actually stop Conner thanks to his unique dual bloodline. There were only three things that could harm him, silver, green stone, and Kal-El. But aside from those things, he was unstoppable.

Conner smelled the deer long before he found his tracks. A young stag. He hadn’t been planning to hunt when he first struck out off the road. But the night was so perfect, quiet and serine, yet very much alive with a steady vitality one just couldn’t get in a bustling harbor town like Hunterville. So, why not? Yes, it was mostly for sport and that was technically against the rules. But he would strip the pelt and jerky the meat afterwards, so it wasn’t like it would be completely for sport. 

He knew he was being followed. They were staying down wind so he couldn’t smell them. But he could hear their heart beat, young and strong and full of the same vigor that Conner himself felt. He assumed it was another wolf also out for a night under the moon or maybe looking to steal his kill. Maybe not a wolf at all but a scavenger wanting to pick the bones once he was done. 

Then the wind changed and he caught the scent. Human, not an animal or werewolf. Intoxicating to spite the fact that it was male. Young, with the slight hint of sandalwood and spice, leather and… silver. Conner’s blood froze. Lots of silver. A werewolf hunter! All this time he was being tracked by the one predator his people had, and he just let him follow!

Conner reacted instantly. Using the powers inherited from Kal-El, he sped from the clearing to fast for the human eye to see. Not a moment to soon either. A silver bladed weapon, shaped vaguely like a bat-wing, came sailing through the air a moment later and impaled the deer right where he had been crouching. 

He found the werewolf hunter crouching on a tree limb, overlooking his kill. Conner watched his blue eyes dart around wildly, trying to find him. The half-wolf came up behind him, one strong hand closing around the hunter’s wrist, the other encircling his waist where he smelled more silver coming from the belt. The belt had to go! His hand found the buckle and he began fiddling with the unusually complicated clasp. 

The hunter’s scent, already colored with mild fear suddenly spiked in alarm, and for some reason that bothered Conner. “What are you doing!?”

He struggled against the half-wolf’s grip, one hand going to grab his belt buckle, the other elbow finding Conner’s collar-bone. The half-wolf pulled back, not relinquishing his grip on the hunter, whom was thrown off balance. The two went tumbling out of the tree. But to the werewolf hunter’s shock, they did not hit the ground.

Conner hovered in the air, the werewolf hunter held in his arms.

Tim looked around them at the open air, seeing that he was suspended by nothing more than the werewolf’s arms. Except… werewolves didn’t fly! At least, they weren’t supposed to. He blinked wide-eyes at Conner Luthor. Unearthly crystal-blue irises stared back at him, bluer and brighter than the moon, starlight giving an almost halo-effect to his bare shoulders. 

“What are you?”

“You’ve been tracking me this whole time. Shouldn’t you know?” His voice was like far-off thunder rolling over green hills. Tim felt a not entirely unpleasant shudder run down his spine at the sound of it.

Conner studied the werewolf hunter in his arms. He was young, maybe only a year or two older than Conner himself (depending on how you counted). Dark haired and blue eyed. Bright, wide, calculating eyes that took in and analyzed everything they saw. The unpleasantly pungent twinge of fear ebbed out of his scent as they hung there in the air, staring at one another. His undiluted scent was like sandalwood and spice with the slightest hint of perspiration and musk. Conner thought it was intoxicating, and he found himself fighting the sudden and inexplicable urge to lean down and kiss him.

“I know you’re Conner Luthor.” Tim felt himself flush under the scrutiny of the wolf’s gaze and hoped the slight pinking of his cheeks would be credited to the cold and not because he was held in the strong arms of a tall, dark and very, very naked man.

“Then you have me at a disadvantage, hunter. You know my name, but I don’t know yours.”

Tim looked around them. Several feet above the ground, the only thing separating him from a very hard fall being the whim of the half-wolf holding him. “In this instance, Mr. Luthor, I think its you who has the advantage.”

He laughed, a deep feral sound that that sent tingling chills of excitement all through out Tim’s body and the werewolf hunter gave an involuntary shudder of anticipation. Anticipation of what, he had no idea, and quite frankly, didn’t want to even explore. 

“Hm, then maybe I should _take advantage_ of my advantage.” And Conner gave in to that inexplicable urge, leaning his head down, he pressed his lips against the werewolf hunter’s. 

To his own shock and shame, Tim moaned brazenly loud into Conner’s mouth, almost closing his eyes to enjoy the sensation before he came back to his senses. His moan of pleasure shifted into a grunt of alarm and Tim fished one hand into a pouch on his belt to pull out a new batarang. He dragged the silver blade over one of the arms holding him.

Conner snarled in pain, and dropped him. The Tim tumbled down into the snow with a very unpleasant THUD. Gritting his teeth against the blunt impact pain, he climbed back to his feet and drew his bo-staff, extending the poll and holding it at the ready, assuming a defense stance. He glared up at Conner Luthor’s naked form still floating above him. One hand clutching his injured arm, dripping bright red blood on the pure white snow. It looked almost violet in the moonlight. Conner snarled down at him wordlessly, crystal-blue eyes flashing wildly. 

Floating. He was floating.

Werewolves did not float. Werewolves did not fly. There was something else going on here that Tim did not understand. He quickly ran through everything he knew about Conner Luthor. He appeared out of the blue only three years ago already at the age of sixteen. Lex had no mate and so there was some question as to the identity of his mother. In the past three years, Conner had never been recorded to having even one transformation. Now he was exhibiting powers that were most definitely not werewolf abilities. 

Tim was out of his depth.

Retreat and regroup would be the prudent course of action now. Conner Luthor had just become an unquantifiable anomaly. A confrontation with him now, working off of incomplete or possibly even incorrect information now could prove catastrophic. So, Tim did the only thing he could do. 

He ran.

…

Conner hissed in pain. 

Silver. The hunter cut him with silver. One of the three things that could actually hurt him.

He drifted down to the ground and buried his cut arm in the snow, hoping the chill might ease some of the pain. It did not. His _alienus_ invulnerability inherited from Kal-El prevented the cold from having any effect on him. 

The wound was bright red and inflamed and it stung like a mother-fucking-bitch! 

Conner thought back to his travel bag hanging on the tree branch next to his discarded clothes. Did he think to pack a salve for cuts or an antidote for silver-poison? He did not. His usual invulnerability made him over confident and Conner hadn’t imagined himself being injured on his little walk-about. Especially not on the first night out from the town! He trudged back to where he’d left his things and emptied the travel bag over the forest floor just to make sure. There were no medical supplies of any kind. 

Conner looked at the cut on his arm. It wasn’t very deep (which was lucky), but it was long, running from the inside of his forearm, just below the elbow, to the back of his wrist. The whole length of it was red and puffy, the skin beginning to blister in places as if he’s been burned. It wasn’t so terrible that he’d louse his arm, but it would get very painful unless treated. 

Should he go home?

Oh, father would just love that!

No, he would not return to his pack for this. 

Besides, to spite the fact that he had tried to flay him with a silver knife, Conner wanted to track down that werewolf hunter. There was… something about him. He noticed it the moment he smelled him. If he weren’t distracted by the accompanying aroma of the silver he carried, Conner thought he would have very much liked the hunter’s scent. He did like the hunter’s scent. In fact, he found it electrifying, to spite the added silver. Sandalwood and spice, leather with perspiration and a healthy male musk…

It made Conner… hungry.

Not hungry like, ‘grind you bones to make my bread’. Oh, no, no, no. More like… ‘I wanna lick you all over and feel you melt under my tongue’. Tana had sparked similar feelings in him, but nowhere near this intensely. And those calculating blue eyes… they held all the adventurous spirit and fearlessness that had attracted him to Cassie, but unlike her, the nameless hunter did light his blood on fire. The only problem was that he was a werewolf hunter. 

But that was a quick fix. A simple bite and then he would be like Conner. Well, not exactly like Conner. No one was like Conner. But he would be a werewolf. Problem solved. 

Now, he just had to do something about this gash on his arm. 

Conner would not go home. He didn’t want to face his father. He hadn’t brought anything with him. He supposed he could call Kal-El, but he liked dealing with the man even less than he liked dealing with his father. So, that left the half-wolf one option. Pulling on his breeches at least, he went in search of the athelas herb.

Athelas was a healing herb used for, quite frankly, everything. When dried and boiled into a tea it soothed stomach pains and slowed the spread of poisons, its aroma eased nerves and calmed the mind, and when the fresh leaves were mashed into a paste and applied to an open wound, it eased skin irritation and warded off infection. Best of all, it grew year-round, so to spite the winter chill and snow, Conner had no trouble finding some growing wild in the woods. He chewed the cold leaves into a thick paste and spread it over the open gash on his arm. The irritation instantly vanished and the pain began to ebb away and the half-wolf sighed in relief. 

Once again returning to his belonging, Conner bound the wound with a scarf. It would be healed by the end of tomorrow provided he got enough sunlight, but for now it had to be bound. Once that was done, Conner slipped on his shirt and waistcoat over the breeches he already wore. Tying his cravat was an up-hill battle on most days, but with the added discomfort of his injured arm, it was near impossible. So he just tied a basic square knot over which he pinned a gold brooch with the stylized L of the Luthor family crest. If his father saw it, he would have thrown a fit. Overcoat and shoes were thrown on and Conner looked presentable enough to appear in public. 

He struck out, following the werewolf hunter’s scent like Odysseus to the siren song. 

…

Tim ran until he reached the edge of the woods by the roadside inn. He rented a room from there earlier in the evening to use as a makeshift base. Leaning against a tree, he took a moment to catch his breath before crossing the open lawn behind the stable. Keeping to the shadows, he made his way around the building to the side his window was on. Climbing up a vine that clung to the side of the building, Tim shimmied in through his open window. 

He shut the window and lit a fire in the hearth to warm the room before stripping off his gloves and boots, coat, waits coat and belt. Just in his shirt and breeches, Tim opened his trunk and pulled out all the books and research he had on werewolves in general and the Hunterville pack specifically. 

No recorded werewolf had ever exhibited the speed or flight ability that Conner Luthor had. Lex Luthor, the alpha of the Hunterville pack was known to dabble in magic and odd-sciences in his efforts to combat Kal-El. Tim supposed it might be possible that his son was the result of one of these dabblings, but that only raised more questions as to what kind of magic or science had created him and how to counter it. That was research that he just didn’t have access to at the moment. For that he’d have to go home, comb through the library at Wayne Manor.

Tim heaved an exasperated sigh and flopped down in the armchair by the fire. He ran a hand over his lips, remembering the feel of Conner Luthor’s kiss. Strangeness of the fact that it had happened at all side, it was far gentler than Tim would have ever expected a werewolf’s kiss to be. Tentative, almost hesitant, like a giddy school-boy testing unfamiliar territory. 

It had been so sudden and Tim felt the heat behind it. A kind of slow-burning passion, the kind that was only ever directed at one person and could last a lifetime. But there was a shyness to it, as if Conner didn’t even understand it himself. 

Well, if the wolf didn’t even understand the reasons behind his actions, then Tim wasn’t going to grasp them any time soon!

He put the kiss out of his mind. Tomorrow he would leave. Return home to Gotham and the library at Wayne Manor. His brothers, Richard and Jason would give him crap for coming home early with nothing to show for his trouble. But that was a necessary irritation in light of recent developments. Conner Luthor was an anomaly that needed to be better understood before any action could be taken against him.

He was not running away because it frightened him how much he had enjoyed that short kiss. 

…

Conner followed the scent to a roadside inn. 

He took a moment to run a hand through his hair to bring it under some symbolance of order and dusted pine needles and snow off his coat. Standing strait an proud, like a true son of Luthor, Conner strode right up to the inn’s main door and wrapped loudly.

After a prolonged pause, a light appeared in an upstairs window and a few moment’s later the door was opened by the innkeeper. Sleepy-eye, his dressing gown hanging open, night cap askew, he blinked sleepily at Conner until his eyes caught sight of the gold Luthor brooch glinting in the moonlight. 

“Oh. Oh! Good evening, sir.” He set his candle on a small table just inside the door and righted his dressing gown. Stepping aside for Conner to enter. “How may I be of service, Mr. Luthor?”

Warm air wafted around him as the innkeeper closed the door behind him. Wood and stone, a wood burning fire, ale, stew, human odors, sandalwood and spice. “A room for the night.”

“Yes, yes, of course!” 

He was lead upstairs to a vacant room modestly furnished. A simple bed, small desk by the window, a chair by the hearth and a wool carpet. The innkeeper hurried to light the hearth and warm the room. 

“Is there anything else you require, sir?” He asked. “Food, drink?”

“Privacy.” Conner replied shortly.

“Of course.” He bowed out of the room.

Conner listened until the innkeeper’s footsteps climbed back into bed. There was the creak of a mattress, a grunt and a sigh, then his breathing turned even and slow –he was back asleep in moments. The half-wolf waited to the count of ten just to make sure before slipping back out of the room. He followed the scent of sandalwood and spice, leather and perspiration to another room practically across the hall from his own. 

He recognized the rhythm of the heartbeat inside and smirked with triumph, his whole body vibrating with sudden anticipation.

Conner knocked three times.

…

Tim was still sitting in his armchair, running a hand over his lips and trying not to think about how he had almost allowed himself to melt in the werewolf’s arms, when a knock at the door startled him out of his pensive meditations.

It was far to late at night for callers. Cautiously, he opened it, slowly, and froze at who he saw waiting in the corridor. 

“Evening.” Said Conner Luthor. 

Tim looked back to his belt, lying over his waistcoat on the bed. It was just a moment’s glance. He only took his eyes off the wolf for a second. But that second was all Conner needed. In a flash he was all the way in the room, the door closed behind him and Tim pressed up against it, held by the front of his shirt. He felt Conner’s hot breath on his chin and wondered fleetingly if they would kiss again or if he would get his throat ripped out instead. And in a moment of glittering horror, Tim realized that both prospects excited him equally.

Conner inhaled deeply, enjoying the aroma of sandalwood and spice, leather and perspiration and a healthy male musk that made him go rigid with excitement. He leaned forward so that his lips were just short of brushing the werewolf hunter’s ear and whispered, “You were very rude this evening, sir.”

He smirked as the wolf hunter shuddered against him, the man’s scent spiking with his own excitement.

“What… what do you want, monster?” Tim managed to growl out, ashamed of how quickly and how readily his body tried to surrender to the wolf.

Conner held back the immediate retort of ‘I want you’ that rose in his throat. Such a short statement, true though it was, would not convey his meaning, or make the hunter understand. He wanted a life-mate. This hunter with Cassandra’s fearlessness and Tana’s willfulness, and the way he lit Conner’s blood on fire… No, this proposal merited a bit more elaboration than just a whispered, ‘I want you.’ He let go of the shirt he was holding and took one small step back to give the man some room to breathe.

“A moment of your time.” He said.

Tim’s eyes looked past the werewolf to his belt, still lying impotently over his waistcoat, on the bed. Could he cross the room, grab the belt, and draw a silver batarang before Conner stopped him? 

Given his unnatural speed? Probably not. 

Tim tried it anyway.

…And was, within the space of a moment, once again restrained.

“We can either speak civilly, as gentlemen.” Conner growled in his ear, breath hot on the back of his neck. “Or you can be pinned to another flat surface while I speak and you listen. I know which I would choose, but then, maybe you secretly enjoy being overpowered.”

“I do not!” Tim was quick to snarl, perhaps a bit to quick. Then he repeated, “What do you want from me?”

Conner dragged him to the armchair by the fire and shoved him into it. Leaning forward, the werewolf rested his weight on both armrests, looked the hunter directly in the eyes and said in absolute seriousness, “Three things: I’d like an apology for the cut you gave me. I’d like to know your name. And I want you to be my mate.”

Tim stared back at him for long moments, thinking he must have misheard something or misunderstood something, or perhaps he had simply gone insane and this was some manner of delusion. An apology for cutting him with the silver batarang, yes, that made perfect sense. Of course he would want retribution for something like that. His name, okay, slightly odd. But if the werewolf was planning to kill him as vengeance for the cut then he might be one of those rare types that liked to know a man’s name before he ended their life. Not all that strange. But that last one… Tim, with all his cleverness and wit, could not fathom a reason behind it. The only logical conclusion was that he must have misheard. 

So, after the silence had dragged on a well-past uncomfortably long time, he asked, “What!?”

Conner straitened, no longer leaning over Tim, he repeated, “I want an apology, your name, and you to be my mate.”

Tim’s mouth was hanging open. He knew he probably should close it. But there seemed to be a disconnect between his brain and, well, his brain! He heard the words; he just wasn’t processing them right. The only reaction that seemed appropriate was simply to repeat, ‘What!?’ at a higher volume. But that would get them nowhere. He supposed he could have started listing reasons why what Conner was suggesting was completely insane. ‘But we’re both men!’ ‘I’m a werewolf hunter, you’re a werewolf. Its my mission to destroy your kind!’ But he assumed some version of all that had occurred to the young Luthor already. …And if it hadn’t, then trying to explain it would be an exercise in futility. 

After a second silence dragged on longer between them, Conner finally said, “I’ve shocked you.”

“Not much shocks me.” Tim told him. “I don’t think you’re in your right mind, sir. Perhaps the cut I gave you… the silver is affecting you somehow. I’m sorry, but-“

Conner gave a single clap, as if in triumph. “Ah, there's my apology.” He smiled. That had not been what Tim meant to say. “Now, tell me your name.”

“No.”

The half-wolf’s face fell, disappointed. Then, he got an ominous gleam in his eyes that Tim did not like one bit. “Alright, then.” He said. “Give me three nights.”

“What?” Tim blinked at him.

“Let me court you for three nights.” Conner elaborated. “After three nights have passed, you’ll not only tell me your name, but you’ll be _begging_ to be my mate.”

…


	2. Three Nights Together

The calm, logical part of Tim’s brain, the part that planned things out and thought up contingencies for his contingencies, told him that Conner Luthor’s attentions were a good thing. They gave him a power and advantage over the werewolf. They would allow for him to get close, slip past his guard and slay him (as he had set out to do when he left Gotham).

Sadly, that part of his mind could not be heard over the rest of his brain that was shouting simply, _‘Ohmygod! Ohmygod! Ohmygod!’_ At high volume. In multiple languages. _‘Oh mon dieu!’ ‘Ay dios mio! ’ ‘Oh mein gott!’_

So, instead of pressing his advantage, Tim was doing something he almost never did. He was turning tail and running. 

It was still early winter and the roads were still open and traveled. The coaches were still running between Hunterville and Gotham. Tim’s trunk was packed and loaded on the coach, his coin in the carriage driver’s hand and Tim himself seated inside beside an elderly governess, before the roadside inn had even brought out the first hot breakfast course. He nibbled on cold bread and cheese from the previous day and was tense and on edge until they made their first stop at mid-day.

It was then that Tim sat down to his first hot meal of the day. Outside, the clear sky of the previous night had faded to a gray cast of cloud-cover that threatened fresh snow. He just hoped the weather would be obliging enough to wait until he was closer to home. It was a four day journey from Hunterville back to Gotham, four days and three nights. 

He thought about the way the young Luthor made him shudder and tingle, the feel of his muscular arms restraining him, his hot breath on the back of his neck… He was power and he was danger… and he was excitement. Conner excited Tim in a way that the young hunter was fairly certain he should not. But when he thought about that kiss and Conner’s lips on his…

The coachman’s call that they were about to get back underway startled him out of his thoughts and Tim hurriedly tossed a few coins on the table and pulled his hat on his head before dashing out to climb back in the coach.

The weather did not wait until he was back home in Gotham. But it was obliging enough to wait until the coach stopped for the day, and night fell. The first few flakes drifted down just as the footmen were pulling Tim’s trunk off the carriage and he cursed his rotten luck, muttering prayers and threats to whatever heathen gods that would listen that the road better still be clear in the morning.

Tim was sitting in the inn’s tavern, pretending to enjoy something the innkeeper insisted was ‘beef stew’ and finally starting to realize that maybe he should have taken advantage of the opportunity Conner gave him when none other but the young Luthor himself pulled a chair up to his table without even so much as a ‘By your leave.’

“I feel jilted.” He said, casually brushing snow off his coat as if this were nothing more than a chance meeting between old friends.

It was all Tim could do to blink in shock.

“I ask for three nights and the very next morning, I wake-up and you’re gone.” Conner shook his head as if reprimanding a child. “Of course, tracking you was no real trouble. It’s the principal of the thing that bothers me. I should have scooped you up and spirited you away when you stopped for lunch, but the weather was dreadful and I needed to get some decent sunlight before our next meeting –in case you decided to flay me with a silver knife again.”

Tim only continued to stare. One half of his mind resumed its exclamations of _‘Ohmygod! Ohmygod! Ohmygod!’_ At high volumes. In multiple languages. _‘Oh mon dieu!’ ‘Ay dios mio! ’ ‘Oh mein gott!’_ While the other half tried to digest and analyze everything the werewolf had just said. 

He had tracked him earlier in the day. He could have gotten the drop on him at any time. But how? Tim hadn’t heard, seen, or otherwise detected any signs of pursuit and Bruce was sure that all his sons knew how to tell when they were being followed. The only thing Tim couldn’t track was a high-flying bird on a cloudy day. …And then with a sick kind of clarity, he remembered that Conner Luthor could fly for reasons yet unknown. Then there was that comment about needing sunlight. Werewolves didn’t need sunlight; their power came from the moon.

Then, as if Tim hadn’t been shocked enough within the past twenty-four hours, Conner asked, “What are you eating?” and reached a hand out to pluck a cube of ‘beef’ from his stew with his bare hand.

“That’s disgusting!” Tim exclaimed, suddenly mortified.

The wolf only shrugged and popped the meat in his mouth, only to make a face of displeasure and spit it back out a moment later. “You’re right, it is disgusting.” He said. “I can feed you much better.”

And then, before Tim even knew what was happening, he was being pulled from his seat and swept out of the inn. It all happened so fast that no one had seen it and the only evidence that they had even been there was a bowl of barely touched stew and two coins, still spinning, on the table. 

Conner dragged him back out into the snow, which had become much thicker from when Tim had first arrived at the inn. He shivered involuntarily against the cold and Conner wrapped his arms more firmly around him. Tim felt a slight tingling sensation all over his skin, almost as if he were being enveloped in an invisible force and the wind and the cold didn’t both him quite as much.

“My TTK should give you some insulation against the elements.” 

What on god’s green Earth was ‘TTK’?

Tim didn’t get the opportunity to ponder that question as they were soon climbing into the air, through the snow, and over the clouds. They hovered over a landscape of white and silver fluff illuminated by the moon and stars, a rolling churning landscape that shifted and swayed at the slightest puff or swish of air. Tim had never seen the top-side of clouds before and he was struck speechless by the sight.

“Now then,” Conner pulled his thoughts back to himself and the fact that he was suspended miles above the earth in the arms of an enemy. “I promised you dinner. I hear the New England colony makes a fantastic chowder. Or maybe we could go to Carolina for something spicy.”

“I, uh…” Tim could only stutter. It was so much all at once. A bizarre proposal, unnatural powers, sights no mortal man had ever seen before, and now the offer to eat anywhere in the colonies no mater how far away it was in a single night. It was unreal.

Conner looked far off into the distance, almost as if he were seeing beyond normal sight. After a prolonged pause, he said, “Well, its not snowing in Carolina.” 

A few moments and a rush of air later, Tim found himself sitting in a different tavern in the town of New Bern, North Carolina. Conner sat across from him looking as casual and content as if they’d just walked in off the street and hadn’t just been floating over the earth miles away to the north in New York. 

“I hope you like spicy food.” The wolf smirked, resting his cheek on his hand and gazing across the table at Tim, crystal-blue eyes drinking him in as if they were trying to memorize every detail of his face. It gave the hunter the eerie and uncomfortable feeling of being naked, and it was wrong that the idea excited him.

With a conscious effort, Tim forcefully reminded himself that this man was his sworn enemy. Conner was a werewolf and Tim a werewolf hunter. He could not allow himself to be taken in by those unearthly crystal eyes no mater how intense and alluring his stare was. The monster had given him the perfect opportunity with this bizarre proposal and Tim intended to take full advantage of it. Unfortunately, unless he wanted to pay three times the coach fair to get back to Gotham, he would have to wait until Conner flew him back to New York to strike. Damn wolf was smarter than he looked. 

Dinner was a blur spices and fine wine. Tim paid only close enough attention to what he was eating to make sure nothing had been poisoned or drugged. Beyond that, his mind was preoccupied with formulating a plan. Conner Luthor was trying to woo him; that placed Tim in a position of power over the wolf. He would play along for now, have a pleasant meal with him, and share civil conversation. But the moment Conner took him back to New York, when he was closer to home and back on familiar ground, then Tim would press his advantage. Take down his prey. Take the teeth and hands back to Gotham as proof of his first solo-kill and bury the rest of the body in a silver-lined casket with a wreath of garlic and wolfsbane for good measure. 

After dinner, he found himself once again being dragged out by Conner. Tim hoped they were going strait back to his inn. But much to his disappointment, the wolf did not wrap his arms around him and left them up into the air. Instead, he turned them down the main street, mostly deserted in the early dark of winter.

“Where are you taking me now?” Unconsciously, Tim’s hand drifted down to his belt. If the wolf attacked him before they got back to the inn then he’d be forced to defend himself.

“I thought it might be nice if we took a walk.” Conner replied. His eyes darted down from Tim’s face to his hand on his belt. “You don’t have to worry. I won’t bite you until you agree to be mine.”

“About that…” Began Tim, so long as he wasn’t in any immediate danger this would be a fine opportunity to gain more information about his prey, to better understand his bizarre powers, and maybe figure out the best way to take him down. But he did not remove his hand from his belt. “Why do you want me to be your mate? You _have_ noticed that we’re both men.”

Conner took a long deep breath, almost as if savoring the flavor of the air. “I like your scent.” He said. “You smell… nice.”

“I smell nice.” Tim scoffed. “That’s your whole reason for wanting me to be you mate. What _exactly_ does being a werewolf’s ‘mate’ entail?”

Admittedly, this was a bit of a trick question on Tim’s part. He was a werewolf hunter and did his research. Werewolves were people cursed. The curse was transferred to new people through bites. One interesting side effect of the werewolf curse was that people became monogamous. As much as society liked to proclaim marriage was forever, spouses cheated, or when a spouse died, the one left living moved on to another partner. But not werewolves. Werewolves remained constant to their partner, to their one partner. But Tim had only ever read about heterosexual mating between werewolves. To the best of his knowledge there was no documented case of two male werewolves being life-mates.

“Well, we’d spend the rest of our lives together.” Conner supplied. “But I would assume you already knew that. What I really want is to get away from here, get out from under my father’s rule and start a pack of my own.”

At that, Tim’s boot caught on an uneven cobblestone and he went stumbling forward, only to be caught by Conner. He avoided looking at the man as he straitened, readjusting his cravat. “Ahem, wouldn’t that be something you’d need a _woman_ for?”

Conner shrugged. “Traditionally, yes. I guess. But not necessarily. My father has told me about packs that have no alpha pair and are instead expanded by converting new members. You and I would be the alpha pair, but we’d build our pack that way.”

Tim resumed walking. “Okay, so when you say ‘mate’, what you really mean is a business partner or a mission companion.”

That was very different than what Tim had originally thought. His answer would still be ‘no’, of course. But it was good to know. So then, why did Tim suddenly feel so disappointed? He hadn’t actually been looking forward to the prospect of engaging in nominal congress with another man. But then he remembered the brush of Conner’s lips against his, the feel of his strong weight holding him against the solid wood door. …Maybe if that man were Conner, he wouldn’t be so adverse to the idea. Certainly no one else had ever made him feel this way.

“No, I mean I want a mate.” The wolf insisted. “The only thing keeping me from ripping your clothes off and running my tongue all over your body right now is the fact that you haven’t yet agreed to it.”

Tim felt a thrill run through his whole body at that declaration. He felt himself go hard at the sheer _idea_ of Conner pinning him to another flat surface, tearing his clothes off with animal abandon and licking along every one of his scars. It was shameful, the effect Conner had on him, but that seemed only to add another layer to his arousal. It was exciting. Taboo. Forbidden. Tim grew up believing it was something he wasn’t supposed to want, but that just made him desire it even more…

“That’s something I’ll never agree to.” Tim told him, and they both knew it was a lie. He knew how good werewolves’ senses of smell were. It was foolish to hope that Conner couldn’t smell the effect his words produced in the young hunter.

Conner inhaled again, deeper this time and held it in longer. When he exhaled again it was as a shuttering sigh, almost a moan. “We’ll see. It’s only my first night. I still have two more to convince you.”

Tim said nothing in response to that. He let the silence stretch between them for one… two… three beats, before abruptly and awkwardly changing the subject. “Tell me about yourself.” He said. “Why can you fly? Werewolves don’t fly.”

“Ah… that’s a sensitive subject.” Conner’s eyes tightened and he hissed between his teeth. 

“Well, you can’t expect someone to agree to spend the rest of their life with you when you’re refusing to explain something as important as that.” Tim crossed his arms over his chest and cast a sidelong glance at the werewolf. 

“Alright then.” Conner likewise crossed his arms and met Tim’s stare with a crystal-blue one of his own. “Tell me your name, hunter, and I’ll tell you about all my extra powers.”

Tim blinked. “How many other powers do you have?”

“Ah, ah, ah… Name first.”

Tim bit the inside of his cheek. He wasn’t about to give Conner his real name. Even just his first name and the knowledge that he was from Gotham could be enough for an astute detective to trace him back to the Wayne family. He would not put his foster father and brothers in danger just to entertain the mystery that was Conner Luthor. He could give a fake name, he supposed. It wasn’t like he had any intention of taking his proposal seriously. But still, Tim found himself hesitating.

“You can’t commit to someone who’s hiding things from you and that’s fair. I can’t commit to someone who’s name I don’t even know.” He flashed a knowing smile. “You tell me your name, and I’ll tell you about my powers.”

There was another beat of silence between them as they continued their leisurely stroll down the main street. They were almost at the edge of town now, away from any prying eyes that might peek out of windows at the two men alone in the dark. Conner hesitated for a moment longer, then took Tim’s hand in his. He meant it to appear to be a casual, natural gesture, but when the werewolf hunter glanced down at their joined hands in confusion then back up at Conner, he saw the man’s cheeks sported a self-conscious blush. Tim was about to withdraw his hand from the loose grip, but instead decided that he would gain more by going along with it. 

Not meeting his eyes, Tim shifted his grip to intertwine his fingers with Conner’s. He waited a strategic second and a half before chancing a hesitant glance, looking up at the wolf through his thick lashes. At the grin of pleasure that spread over his face Tim said, in a voice of measured hesitation, “Alvin. My name is Alvin.”

It was a shame he couldn’t blush on command. That would just put the final touches on his little play.

“Alvin…” Conner muttered, as if testing the name on his tongue. “It doesn’t suit you at all.”

He tugged on the hand he held, pulling ‘Alvin’ flush against him and placing his other hand at the small of his back. He leaned down and once again brushed his lips against Tim’s. 

It started out as gentle as the first one had, but quickly turned more heated, more passionate. Tim moaned into Conner’s mouth, his knees going weak, momentarily giving into the desire that had been stirring inside him since their first meeting the previous night. Conner flicked his tongue over Tim’s bottom lip, requesting entrance and the hunter willingly obliged by parting his lips. The wolf’s tongue plunged into his mouth, exploring and tasting with reckless abandon and Tim found himself sucking him in, tasting Conner just as much as the wolf was tasting him. 

Then Conner pressed his thighs against Tim’s hips and the hunter felt the wolf’s hard desire slide against his own. It sent a thrill through his whole body and he imagined what it might feel like against his skin. In his hands, or pressed against his naked thigh, or against his backside, or- His thoughts came to a screeching halt right then and there like a speeding stagecoach thrown from its wheels. Placing his free hand on Conner’s chest, Tim pushed himself away.

“What are we doing!?” Tim demanded, breathlessly. His heart was hammering around in his ribcage, it felt like butterflies were struggling to escape his stomach, and his breeches were uncomfortably tight. 

“Kissing.” Conner growled as if this should have been obvious. He tired to pull Tim back but the smaller man twisted out of his hold. Conner tightened his grip on Tim’s hand, pinching their intertwined fingers together. 

“Let go.” The hunter hissed. “If my consent really means that much to you, you’ll let go! Now, I’ve told you my name. It’s your turn. Tell me about your powers.” 

Conner sighed and released his hold on Tim’s hand. Tim cracked his knuckles and massaged his fingers. 

“You’re right. We had a deal. In addition to flight, I’m also very fast, and very strong. I can see through things when I want to, shoot fire out of my eyes and I have the ability to control things that I touch.”

“Control!?” Tim was suddenly horrified. Conner’s hands had been on him almost consistently since they met. Everywhere above the waist and then behind his knees that first night when the wolf caught them from tumbling out of the tree. Did that mean that he was now under the young Luthor’s control? Was that where this wanton desire for him was coming from?

“It’s not what you might think, I swear.” The wolf assured him. “It’s like… anything I touch, I can move with my mind. Here watch.”

Conner bent down and picked up a stone from the ground. It was a little hard to see in the dim light, clouds veiled the moon and stars, but just enough light managed to bleed through for Tim to see the small pebble in his palm. Then, the most amazing thing happened, the small pebble began to rise into the air. It hovered above Conner’s palm for a few moments before flying a slow figure-8 around them both and then settling back into his palm. He dropped it back to the ground after that.

“You see? That’s what I mean by ‘control’.” He explained. “All I have to do is touch something and I can move it, no matter how large or how heavy it is. Its like… It’s hard to explain. I can use it for other things too. I used it to shield you from the cold earlier. It’s like a second skin that I can mold. My father calls it ‘tactile telekinesis’, or TTK.”

Well, that certainly answered one question.

“But where did it come from?” Tim pressed. “Where did all of your powers come from? You claim to also be able to see through things, and shoot fire from your eyes, and you can _fly_! There’s only one other person I know of who can do all three of those things; the Hunterville _alienus_ , Kal-El.”

Tim froze at his own words. He looked at Conner, really _looked_ at him, as if seeing the man for the first time. Tall and muscular, with a crown of black hair, a prominent brow, over vivid crystal-blue eyes. Unearthly crystal-blue eyes. Tim had only ever seen that shade of blue on one other person. They were Kal-El’s eyes. 

“My god!” He exclaimed. It made sense. It all made so much sense, why hadn’t he seen it earlier!? He appeared three years ago at the age of sixteen. Around the same time, Kal-El forbid all werewolf hunter activity within his town. It all made sense. Conner Luthor was not Lex Luthor’s son but Kal-El’s! Luthor must have converted Conner as part of his personal vendetta against the _alienus_. Knowing his son was a werewolf but unable to change him back, Kal-El tried to protect him by kicking all hunters out of town and forbidding any new ones from coming in. It all made sense. “You’re Kal-El’s son!”

“That _Alienus_ is not my father!” Conner snarled. “But, yes, he is my other sire. He and my father are the main reason I want to get away.”

Tim backpedaled. Kal-El wasn’t Conner’s ‘father’ but he was Conner’s ‘other sire’. What did that mean? Kal wasn’t human. Perhaps… was it possible that Conner had two fathers instead of a father and a mother? It was an odd idea; but Bruce often said that one had to expect the absurd when dealing with Kal-El. Then, another thought struck him. What if the reason they had no documented mate for Luthor was because _Kal_ was his mate!? Tim reeled at the idea.

Conner took both Tim’s hands in his. “Alvin, come away with me.” He said. “We’ll go somewhere far from here, somewhere warm and tropical. We can start a pack of our own.”

This was too much. Too much for Tim to take in and process all at once. He needed time and quiet to collect his thoughts. “Take me back to my room at the inn, please.”

An excited grin spread over Conner’s face. He gathered Tim up in his arms and lifted them up into the air. “Gladly.”

Tim felt that same tingling sensation over his skin, as if being enveloped by an invisible blanket or submerged in warm water. Conner’s TTK? Probably. It made him feel safe and protected. So much so that he wasn’t at all bothered by the height or the speed of their flight. In fact, he almost wished it lasted longer. 

Conner helped him climb through the window of his room at the inn before trying to drift in after him. “What are you doing?”

“Oh, I thought… I asked you to come away with me and you invited me back to your room.” He blushed in a way that was completely and utterly adorable. “I thought maybe you meant… uh, I’m sorry. Never mind. I’ll see you tomorrow night.”

With extreme reluctance, Conner flew off and left the hunter alone with his thoughts. 

Tim spent the entire rest of his night transcribing everything he’d learned into his field journal. He would still need to cross-reference things with the texts in Wayne Manor library. Not just things about werewolves anymore, but also from Bruce’s own self-written texts on Kal-El. He spent the entire day transcribing the conversation they had, jotting down questions it left him with, noting his own personal theories, and listing specific things he intended to look up. Tim spent so much time bent over his desk that the sky began to lighten as the night turned to dawn before he finally set his quill down and stretched.

That was how the first night was spent.

…

After supervising his trunk being loaded onto the coach and paying the coachman his fair for the day’s journey, Tim climbed into the carriage and promptly fell asleep. He had been up the whole night and was tired beyond belief. He tilted his hat down over his face to keep out the overcast morning light. 

His dreams were filled with erotic visions of himself and Conner, their bodies intertwined in passionate congress. 

Tim dozed until they breaked for lunch. He searched the snowy sky for any hint of a flying gentleman with dark hair and crystal eyes, but there was no sign of Conner that he could see and Tim did not want to wonder as to why that disappointed him.

The coach continued its journey until nightfall, as it had the previous day, and stopped to room for the night at another roadside inn.

Tim sat by the fire in his own room studying his notes on Conner rather than having dinner downstairs in the tavern with the rest of the guests. Clad in nothing but a shirt and breeches, he warmed his feet by the fire and mentally kicked himself for not taking advantage of the perfect opportunity Conner had given him the previous night. As he was crawling in through the window, thinking Tim was inviting him in for a romantic tryst –it would have been the perfect time to strike. 

Missed opportunities. 

But he’d get another one tonight. Conner promised three nights. Yesterday had been the first. Tonight would be the second. Tonight Tim would not allow himself to be distracted by that perfectly chiseled face, those strong hands, his broad chest, those soft lips, that slippery tongue… 

Tim felt his desire begin to stir again and he grit his teeth, trying to push it to the side. He focused his attention, instead, on his notes from the previous night. Study. Know your enemy. Find a weakness. He had already proved that silver worked on him, would Green Stone work too? Tim didn’t have any Green Stone with him. But Bruce always kept some at the mansion. The mansion was still a two-day journey away. Whether it would work or not, Green Stone was out. 

So, silver then.

It was almost an hour later, as Tim was honing a blade that he heard the tap on his window. Standing up from his seat by the fire, he crossed the room barefoot to pull the curtain aside. Sure enough, there was Conner hovering just outside –covered head to tow in freshly falling snow. Tim might have wondered just how the wolf knew that this was his room, with the window shut and the curtain drawn, but that was a silly thing to wonder when he already knew Conner had Kal-El’s power to see through solid objects. 

Tim slipped the blade he’d been honing into his pocket without a care that Conner saw the action plain as day. If he could see through things then there was no point in trying to conceal it. In this case, transparency was the wiser course of action. He pushed open the window and stepped aside for the wolf to float in. When his feet were firmly on the hardwood floor, Tim shut the window again to seal in the heat and watched the snow on Conner melt. It made his clothing stick to his figure and Tim’s mouth watered shamelessly at the sight. 

“It’s a shame that’s a knife in your pocket.” Said the _alienus_ -werewolf. “It would have been nice if you were happy to see me instead.”

“I am happy to see you.” Tim assured him, and it wasn’t a total lie. “The silver is… just a precaution.”

Conner looked hurt, really, truly and deeply cut at the insinuation. “I promise I would never do anything to harm you, Alvin.” He swore. “I want you as my mate and I could never hurt my mate.”

Tim felt a stabbing of guilt assail him and he considered for a moment taking the bladed batarang out of his pocket and tossing it aside. But he caught himself quickly and reminded himself that he wasn’t supposed to care how he made Conner feel. He was only going along with this farce to get close enough to the monster and get him to let his guard down enough to deal a killing blow. He was a werewolf hunter and the young Luthor was a werewolf. They were natural enemies. 

They were natural enemies!

And then something occurred to Tim that he hadn’t asked the previous night. “But how can I be?” he asked. “I’m a werewolf hunter! How could I ever be your mate?”

Conner shrugged, completely unconcerned. “I can convert you easily enough. Just a simple bite. You’ll be ill for several days, but afterwards you’ll be just like me. Well… not just like me, but you’re be a werewolf.”

Tim was horrified. Honestly and truly horrified. His hand closed around the batarang in his pocket. He had been careless last night. Conner could have bitten him at any moment. It was a miracle that he didn’t, but Tim couldn’t afford to leave himself open like that again. If he was bitten, if he was converted, he would never be able to return home to his family. He would kill Conner before the wolf had a chance to touch him.

“Alvin? Are you alright?” Asked the young Luthor. “Don’t tell me I’ve shocked you. What did you expect?”

Conner took a step towards him, but Tim drew the blade from his pocket in a second, holding it out in front of himself like a shield. The jagged silver batwing glinted in the firelight and cast reflections on the walls. “Don’t come near me!”

The wolf froze, once again looking sad. “I promised I wouldn’t hurt you.”

“I’ll not become a monster!” Tim snarled.

Conner’s crystal-blue eyes darkened. “You’ve been throwing that word around a lot since we met.” He said. “I don’t think it means what you think it means. I might be a werewolf and I might not be entirely human, but I’ve never hurt anyone. Your people on the other hand have killed hundreds of mine. I could just as easily say you’re the monster here.”

There was a beat of silence. 

Then, Tim confessed. “I’ve never killed a werewolf on my own before.”

“On your own?” Conner asked. “But you have killed. Is that not a monstrous thing to do?”

“I…” Tim faltered for a moment. Then he thought of Bruce, of his foster father and the deep seething hatred he held for werewolves. It had been a werewolf that killed his parents so many years ago. It was his Mission to combat the creatures wherever he found them, and after he adopted Tim, it became Tim’s mission too. Not as revenge for the late Thomas and Martha Wayne, but so that no other child would have to go through the same pain and trauma. “You’re trying to confuse me. I know who I am and I know what you are. If being your mate means becoming one of your kind then I won’t do it!”

The silence that stretch between them lasted for one… two… three beats. 

Finally, Conner suggested, “A compromise.”

“What?” Tim blinked at him in confusion but did not lower the silver blade.

“Being life-mates is all about compromisation.” He elaborated. “If I agree never to bite you or let any other wolf convert you, then you have to agree to give up hunting my kind. Then I’ll find a nice tropical island for us to run away too and we’ll start a new colony. One where hunters and wolves can coexist peacefully.”

Tim lowered the blade slightly. It sounded nice.

Conner crossed the space between them and held him by the shoulders. “Alvin…” He whispered, his eyes once again light and shining in the firelight. His gaze was full of heat and desire and it made Tim’s heat pound. The batarang hung limply in his hand. Then Conner leaned down and hissed him and Tim dropped it all together. 

He melted into that kiss, opening his mouth before Conner even had the chance to request entrance. Plunging his tongue into the werewolf’s mouth, now it was his turn to taste and explore as the other man had done last night. The hands on his shoulders shifted, one traveling downwards to encircle Tim’s waist, the other up to cradle his head. Tim raised his hands to Conner’s chest, but this time he did not push him away. He wanted to feel that broad chest, those perfectly sculpted muscles under his waistcoat… The damn waistcoat was in the way! It was all in the way! The clothing had to go.

Tim began unbuttoning his waistcoat, starting with the lowermost button and climbing his way up. Conner took his hand off him just long enough to slide the article off his shoulders where it crumpled on the floor abandoned and forgotten. The shirt he wore underneath was light and cottony, and allowed for Tim to feel every contour of the rippling flesh underneath.

Conner’s hands were back on him. One hand at the small of Tim’s back as he had held him the previous night. The other came around the front to stroke his needy erection through the fabric of his breeches. Tim moaned into Conner’s mouth and bucked his hips into his hand. Damn clothing. To much clothing! It was in the way! It was all in the way!

Then Conner’s hand slithered inside his breeches and Tim gasped at the sensation of naked skin on skin.

Then his mind caught up with the rest of him and he realized just what was happening. He abruptly pulled out of the kiss. “Wait!”

A string of saliva dripped between their mouths but neither made any motion to wipe it away. 

Conner did not wait. His hand continued to stroke Tim inside the waistband of his breeches and the werewolf hunter sighed with appreciation while simultaneously fighting to get himself back under control. “I don’t understand.” He said. “We were just arguing and now we’re… doing this.”

“This is our ‘making up.’” Conner growled in frustration. He took hold of Tim’s wrist and guided his hand down to cup his own stiff desire pressing hard against the fabric of his breeches. Then he said in a heady whisper, “Alvin, please, I need you to touch me.”

Tim gave the hard shaft an experimental stroke through the fabric and was rewarded with a sigh of appreciation from Conner. 

“More.” He begged. “Please, Alvin, I need it.”

Tim moved his other hand to begin unlacing Conner’s breeches while he continued to stroke him from the outside. Conner’s own hand inside Tim’s pants drifted downward to stroke a thumb over his balls and then press that sensitive spot just below the sack. The hunter gasped at the unfamiliar feeling and leaned his weight against the larger man.

Conner, somehow, managed to maneuver them to the bed without Tim’s notice. Chalk it up to that TTK power, why not. They both tumbled onto the mattress with all the grace of two sacks of flower falling off a stack in the pantry. Tim might have giggled if he weren’t already half-mad with wanton need for the man on top of him.

Finally the lacings of Conner’s pants gave way and he reached both hands under the fabric to grip his rigid shaft. 

“Yes…!” The wolf gave a hiss that quickly morphed into a groan of appreciation as Tim began stroking one hand up and down the shaft while the other kneaded and massaged the head. 

Conner pulled Tim’s breeches down around his thighs. Propping himself up with one hand, he stroked the hunter’s quivering member with his other.

Tim leaned up, his lips parted. “Kiss me again.”

Conner was more than happy to oblige, leaning down, he claimed Tim’s mouth with his own. Their tongues darted out, licking, stroking, tasting, sucking, teasing one another; fanning the flames of their desire. 

Conner’s hand on Tim’s shaft moved to the head, wetting his fingers with the pre-cum that was there. Then his hand drifted back down, down the shaft, under his balls, lower. Conner slithered his hand underneath Tim’s backside to prod tentatively at his hole.

For the second time that night, Tim broke the kiss, and for the second time that night, he shouted, “ _Wait!_ ”

Conner’s finger’s stilled, but he did not withdraw them.

“What are you doing?”

“Isn’t it obvious?” He pressed one finger inside, stretching the tight tissue and making Tim gasp.

He moaned at the unfamiliar sensation but couldn’t quite decide yet if he liked it or hated it. It was new and strange and… alien. “Please, stop.” He breathed. “I don’t… I’m not… Not yet! I’m not ready yet.”

Conner withdrew his fingers, disappointed. “I see.” He wiped them on the bedspread and stood. He righted his pants and retrieved his waistcoat from where they’d left it on the floor. “I didn’t mean to push you. I’ll see you tomorrow night.”

Tim sat up in bed, not wanting Conner the leave. Couldn’t they just go back to kissing and touching? “Wait, you don’t have to go!”

The wolf looked back at him, predatory crystal eyes roving over his disheveled form, taking in the bed-tossed hair, the wrinkled shirt, the breeches bunched around his thighs, and his organ. Still hard, the tip still dripping pre-cum… Conner wanted to stay and lap it up. To lick every drop of that thick glistening pre-cum off him and polish his shaft with his tongue. But he also knew that if he stayed, he’d want to bend the hunter over, assert his dominance in their relationship and take him. Take him before he was ready to be taken. 

“Sorry. I think it’s wiser that I leave.”

Then he was gone. Out the window just as he’d come.

Tim flopped back down on his bed, horney and frustrated. He lay on his side, his organ in both hands and stroked and caressed and kneaded himself, all the while imagining it was Conner instead of his own hands. 

…

Tim spent the whole of the following day reflecting on the past two nights. He was forced to conclude that it was pointless to continue to lie to himself about killing the young Luthor. He didn’t know how or why Conner affected him so, but it was now painfully clear that he wasn’t going to raise a hand against him. 

The question then became, what was he going to do now?

Tonight was Conner’s last night. He said three. Only three. No more than three nights, and tonight was the third and final night. Tomorrow the coach would complete its journey to Gotham and Tim would be home. But for some reason, rather than reassure him, that fact only made Tim feel… disappointed. Loath though he was to admit it, he had enjoyed his trysts with the werewolf and was sad to see it ended. 

But then, a little voice reminded him, it didn’t have to end if he didn’t want it to. He could agree to be Conner’s mate. They could run away together. Somewhere warm and tropical. The Caribbean, maybe? They could be pirates! No, not pirates. Besides, the Caribbean was still very close to the colonies, Conner would want to move away farther. The far east, maybe? Or an island no one had heard of yet. Maybe something in the middle of Magellan’s Pacifico. 

It sounded nice.

But Tim just wasn’t sure. He didn’t know what he wanted. He wanted to feel Conner’s mouth on him. But he didn’t want to get bitten. He wanted them to run away together. But he didn’t want to leave his family. He liked the idea of having a ‘pack’ with Conner. But he could never condone him converting others into werewolves. Maybe they could adopt children as Bruce had adopted him and his brothers. But Conner would want to convert them…

Tim didn’t know what to decide.

He threw on his cloak over his coat and stepped out of the inn. Maybe a walk in the frigid air would help clear his head.

The sky was clear as it had been on the night when they first met. The waning moon had dwindled to just a sliver that gave little light, but the stars were still just as bright. Snow crunched under his boots and Tim strolled along the tree line that separated the inn property from the wild forest. He wondered where Conner was right now, if he were watching him from somewhere high-up where Tim couldn’t see. What time would he appear tonight? Should he go back to his room and wait? Would they resume where they left off? Did he want to?

Yes. Tim wanted to.

He wanted to taste Conner’s tongue in his mouth. He wanted to run his hands all over that tight olive skin and feel the muscles rippling underneath. He wanted to feel Conner’s hands on him. His strong sinewy hands around Tim’s shaft, cupping his balls. Conner’s fingers probing his backside. Would he say ‘no’ a second time? Tim wasn’t sure. He didn’t think he would and he wasn’t sure if that thought frightened or exhilarated him. 

There was a rush of air that knocked the snow from the trees and ruffled Tim’s hair. When the air settled, Conner hovered a few inches above the snow. “I looked for you at the inn, but you weren’t there.”

“I needed a walk.” Tim replied. “I needed to think.”

Conner settled beside him, the snow crunching under his boots. “Think about what? Have you considered my offer?”

“Among other things.” Tim nodded.

Conner looked hopeful. “Have you come to a decision?”

“Not yet.” He shook his head. “There are still lots of things I have to consider. I can’t just run off with you because you make me hot. What if this attraction I feel for you goes away eventually? All it’s been so far is just a physical passion, that’s no basis for a life-long commitment. And then there’s my family to consider. What would I tell them? I can’t say I’m running off with Lex Luthor’s son. But I can’t just disappear without warning either. You don’t know my father. He’d find us, and he’d probably kill you.”

“Then lie.” Conner suggested as if it were the obvious solution. “Tell him you met a girl. Tell him you’re crazy about her and you’re running away together. Give me some time to find a place. Somewhere far from here. Then I’ll whisk you away and we can be together.”

Tim just shook his head. Conner didn’t understand. He didn’t know Bruce. The man could see lies and grasp secrets. He was the Greatest Detective in the colonies, possibly even the world. There was no lying to him and there was no hiding from him. Even if Conner did find an island in the middle of the Pacifico, Bruce would find them. He would get to them. He would find a way. The patriarch of the bat-clan always found a way. 

Conner stopped their walking. Hands on Tim’s shoulder, he gazed down at the hunter, crystal-blue to deep cobalt blue. “Alvin, I want to be with you.”

That was another thing Tim needed to consider. He gave Conner a fake name that first night because he was sure he would have killed him by now. Instead Tim found himself seriously considering his proposal. He was seriously considering running away with him, spending the rest of his life with him. …and Conner didn’t even know his real name. Should he tell? ‘I’m not Alivin. My name is Tim, Timothy Wayne. I lied to you. I’m sorry.’

How well would that go over?

“I’m not who you think I am.” He said.

“I know exactly who you are.” Conner leaned down and kissed him on the forehead. “You’re smart.” A kiss on the side of the face, just above his eyebrow. “And strong.” A kiss on the cheek. “And willfully independent.” A kiss on the lower jaw. Tim tipped his chin upwards, exposing his neck. “And completely crazy.”

Conner’s hot breath on his neck sent a thrill through him and he didn’t know if the wolf was going to kiss him again or sink his teeth into his jugular vein. And he didn’t bother to give a second’s thought to the fact that both prospects excited him equally. 

“I must be crazy.” Tim agreed, voice shallow and breathy. “Because I want you to kiss me again.”

“And how does that make you crazy?” But Conner didn’t give him a chance to answer. He closed his mouth over Tim’s, one hand pressing against the small of his back, holding the hunter flush against him, the other hand going up to cradle his head.

Tim nibbled on Conner’s bottom lip, causing the wolf to moan loudly. The hand on his back tightened, pressing Tim harder against him, his pelvis grinding into the other man’s. They felt each other’s desire through the fabric of their breeches and it sent a thrill through Tim. Maybe they would pick up where they left off. Maybe Tim might be willing to go all the way this time. He wasn’t sure yet, but he was sure that he wanted the opportunity to find out. 

Tim broke the kiss just long enough to gasp, “Come back to my room.”

Conner kissed him again, sucking on Tim’s upper lip while the hunter nibbled on his lower one. When they broke apart again both their mouths were red and swollen. “Are you asking me to make love to you, or are you calling it a night.” 

“Maybe both.” Tim whispered to his chin. 

“I want to make love to you.” Conner whispered back.

“Come to my room.”

“Gladly.” He gathered Tim up in his arms and before the hunter could say anything more, they were outside his shut window. Conner placed his hand to the shutter, eyes closed. Then they heard the latch click and the window opened of its own accord.

“Anything you touch…” Tim echoed. “That TTK must be a useful ability.”

Conner just shrugged as he glided them both in through the now open window. “It doesn’t suck.”

“Ah.” Tim nodded. Then he blushed self-consciously. “Do you want… would you like me to suck?”

Tim was fairly certain it was impossible to trip on air, or trip while floating. But Tim would also swear that Conner managed it somehow when he asked that question. “Oh, god, Alvin! You’re gonna drive me crazy.”

Tim ignored the brief pang of guilt at the sound of his alias, as Conner laid him down on the bed and began unbuttoning his waistcoat and breeches. He reached his hands up and likewise began undressing the wolf. Clothing slid off skin and was thrown to either side. Hands stroked naked flesh. Both men sighed at the touch.

“Would you suck me?” Conner asked, leaning back on the heels of his hands.

Tim crawled forward and wrapped one hand around the wolf’s shaft. He gave it a few gentle strokes, feeling the way the foreskin slid over it. A bead of pre-cum welled from the tip and Tim flicked his tongue over it, tasting it for the first time. It was sweet but pungent and not at all unpleasant. He lapped it up greedily. 

Conner sighed with appreciation, tangling his hands in Tim’s hair, massaging his scalp with his nails. “Please, Alvin, suck me.”

Tim suppressed a wince at the use of his alias. He would have to come clean to Conner if he chose to continue this affair beyond tonight. Beyond tonight… God! That sounded so far away, and yet, Tim couldn’t imagine his life without the werewolf anymore. They had spent only three nights together, and yet Tim wanted to be with him always. He wanted Conner to be his. He would agree to be Conner’s mate. It felt so right. Like it was meant to be. Like they were made for one another.

He closed his mouth around Conner’s thick shaft.

“Yesss…”

Up and down… up and down. Tim bobbed his head, stroking and caressing with lips and tongue. He took it in, as deep as it’d go, until Tim could feel the head press into the back of his throat. Then he raised his head up, sucking as he slowly lifted his mouth, until all he held between his lips was the head. Then back down again. Again, and again. Slow at first. Then faster. And faster. Up and down. Up and down. Faster. And Faster.

“God! Alvin, you’re gonna make me cum!” Conner warned.

Tim paused at the use of the pseudonym. Lifting his head, he met the wolf’s eyes, “That’s not my- _mfph!_ ”

His words were cut off by Conner’s tongue suddenly plunging down his throat in a passionately demanding kiss. “You taste like sex.” He pushed Tim down on his back. “My turn.”

He began licking up Tim’s legs, starting at the inside of the knee and working his was up the inside of the thigh. This elicited a slight giggle from him and Conner smiled against his skin. Tim was ticklish. How cute! Conner continued licking, stroking and caressing with his tongue until he reached Tim’s sack. Then he switched to sucking, taking one ball in his mouth and supping on it gently. Tim moaned loudly, bucking his hips with uncontrolled desire. Then Conner moved to the other one and gave it the same attention.

“God, Conner!”

It was then that the wolf moved upwards, licking one long wet stroke of his tongue up the underside of Tim’s shaft. When he reached the head, he closed his mouth around it and lowered his head down onto it. He took him in as deep as he would go, almost swallowing it. Conner was blessed with no gag-reflex and he took Tim down into his throat. Massaging the base with his lips, he stroked and petted the shaft with his tongue. Saliva dripped down his balls onto the bedspread under them.

Tim moaned and writhed. Bucking his hips, thrusting into Conner’s throat with reckless abandon.

Conner pressed one hand to Tim’s hip, trying to hold him still. With his other hand he wetted his fingers on the dripping saliva, spreading it lower, pressing his fingers into that sensitive spot just behind Tim’s sack. 

“God! Where did you learn all this?” Tim moaned, almost keening.

Conner raised his head just enough to answer, “You don’t masturbate?”

“I do.” Tim groaned, trying to press his erection back into the wolf’s mouth. “I just… I never tried… Oh, god! Keep doing that!”

Conner suppressed the urge to smile and instead turned his attention back to guiding the trickle of saliva down between Tim’s legs. The whole area was slick and slippery now and he slithered his hand all the way under Tim’s backside, slipping one finger to prod at his hole, exactly as he’s done the previous night. 

He paused at Tim’s rim, not yet pressing inwards, waiting to gauge the hunter’s reaction. Tim only moaned and sighed. So, Conner slid the slippery wet finger inside. Tim arched his back and moaned loudly.

“Is this alright?” Asked Conner. He moved his finger, wiggling it around, searching for that spot.

“Its… alright.” Tim told him.

Then Conner found the spot. That sensitive nerve cluster just behind the prostate.

“Oh, god! Oh, fuck! Conner!”

“You like that?” And he found himself grinning in triumph.

“More!” Tim begged. “Please, more!”

So, Conner slipped in a second finger. Wriggling them around, scissoring his fingers, loosening the tight flesh. Pressing that spot, there, right _there_! Making Tim moan, and sigh, and groan like a well-practiced whore. After a few moments more, Conner withdrew his fingers and wiped them on the bedspread.

“Wha- Why’d you…”

“I think you’re ready.” He proclaimed, lifting Tim by the hips and attempting to roll him over onto his stomach. “On your knees.”

“My knees? What for? Oh! That.”

Tim obliged. On his hands and knees, he lifted his ass in the air. Conner pressed his hands to the soft round flesh and felt Tim’s muscles tense at the touch. Conner massaged his lower back and butt until he felt the man once again relax. He spread Tim’s cheeks and pressed his hard erection between them, easing his way into Tim’s unused and still tight hole.

The hunter hissed between his teeth and Conner paused. “Do you want me to pull out?”

“No.” Tim moaned. “Its just… new. Keep going.”

Conner continued to press his way in. He was so wet and so, so very _tight_! It was wonderful! He adjusted his angle, once again searching for that spot. Wriggling his cock around inside until Tim gave a deep groan of appreciation and bucked his hips back against Conner’s stomach. That was when the wolf began thrusting. There, right _there_! At that angle. Hitting that spot. Making Tim groan, and sigh, and moan like an expert harlot.

“You’re so sexy, Alvin.” Conner sighed with relish.

“Tim…” He corrected, moaning with the motions of Conner’s hips.

“What?” The wolf paused, the motions of his hips stilling, causing Tim to whimper in protest. “What did you call me?”

“No.” Tim shook his head, not comprehending Conner’s misunderstanding. He wriggled his hips, trying to maneuver his cock back against that spot. “My name. My name is Tim. Not Alvin. Please, Conner, don’t stop! I need it.”

But Conner did not resume his motions. “You lied to me?”

Tim grinded his ass against Conner’s stomach desperate to get him to start moving again. “Yes. Yes, I lied. Please, just move your hips. Fuck me!”

“But… why?” Still he would not move.

“Please, Conner!” Tim bucked his hip madly, frantic for the feel of his cock against that spot. “Because… because I didn’t trust you then. Now I do. I’m yours. I’m yours! Just take me, damn it! I need you.”

“You need this?” Conner have one hard thrust of his hips.

Tim moaned loudly with appreciation. “ _Yess…_ ”

“What about the rest of me?”

“Yes, yes! I need all of you!” Tim practically screamed.

“So then… you’re my mate.” He lowered his head down to lick Tim’s ear. “’Tim’… It suits you better than ‘Alvin’. I told you by the end of three nights you’d not only tell me your real name but _beg_ to be my mate.”

Then he moved his hips, thrusting with a speed and force he hadn’t used earlier. It was almost painful the pleasure it elicited in Tim. Each thrust sending shockwaves through his stomach and up his spine. He saw stars behind his eyes and could feel his climax building, pushing closer and closer with every jack-hammer thrust Conner slammed into him. He would cum embarrassingly fast.

Then he was groaning and moaning, almost screaming into the pillow as a rapturous orgasm ripped through his body.

Conner was just a half-second behind him. His own pleasure spilling into him, hot and wet; making Tim shudder.

They collapsed on the bed. Conner retaining just enough of his mind to remember to roll off of Tim, lest he crush the man under his weight. The two laid there like that for some time, basking in the euphoria of the afterglow of their orgasms. Tim cuddled close, and Conner wrapped both strong arms around him.

“I think I might be falling in love with you.” Tim muttered into his pectoral.

“It’s a little late for ‘might be’.” Conner replied. He twisted his body and lowered his head to nuzzle at Tim’s neck. “I fell in love with you the first moment I smelled you.”

“Hm.” Tim leaned into the nuzzling, rather enjoying the feel on Conner’s nose caressing his neck. Then he felt the barest brush of teeth, and he tensed, pulling away. “What are you doing?”

“Nibbling.” Conner answered matter-of-factly. 

“You promised you wouldn’t bite me.” The hunter reminded him, scooting farther away, suspicion darkening his blue eyes. “You said you wouldn’t convert me.”

“I won’t.” He promised. “So long as you agree to give up hunting my kind.”

…


	3. First Night Apart

“Tim, come back to bed.”

Conner lay on his side in the bed, a light cotton sheet thrown lazily over his lower half just barely managing to conceal his partially aroused cock. It hadn’t even been a full hour since their coupling and already the wolf was ready for a second round. He watched his mate’s naked back as Tim scrubbed his shoulder and neck with a cloth, wet with frigid water from a basin. The dim light from the low-burning fire in the hearth cast an almost amber sheen on his scar-marbled skin.

“I didn’t bite you.” He pleaded. “It didn’t even leave a mark. I was just nibbling.”

“I don’t care.” Tim growled.

He dried his neck on a second cloth. Kicking open his trunk, the hunter pulled out his coin purse. Tipping its contents on the floor, Tim selected every silver coin he had and placed them on his skin, covering the area Conner had nibbled with the cool metal. He set the cloth over them, then wrapped the area in gauze to hold them in place.

“You’re being paranoid.” Conner groaned.

“Not paranoid, cautious.” Tim corrected.

He gathered up his remaining money and replaced the coins in his purse. The pouch was then tossed back in his trunk. It looked then, as if he might return to bed, but the hunter paused, seeing Conner lounging there naked, partially aroused and thoroughly appealing. His own cock went rigid at the sight and he watched the wolf lick his lips expectantly.

“Is this what it’s going to be like every night?”

“Are you going to try ‘nibbling’ on me every night?” 

Conner crawled down off the bed. On all fours he crossed the room and crouched on his knees in front of Tim. Placing both hands on the man’s narrow hips, he gazed up the length of his body at those deep cobalt blue eyes. “You didn’t seem to mind when it was your penis I was snacking on instead of your shoulder?”

Tim’s dick twitched at the feel of Conner’s hot breath on him. His mouth was so close… just a slight twist of his hips and a shallow bend and he could maneuver himself between the wolf’s slightly parted lips. But he forced himself to remain at least somewhat rational. “I don’t like this idea of ‘nibbling’.” He said. “What if you louse control in the throws of passion and bite me?”

“I won’t.” Promised Conner. “Not unless you tell me too.”

He slid one hand down to stroke his thumb over Tim’s sack in a slow back and forth motion.

Tim sighed at the touch, enjoying it more than he wanted to at that moment. He leaned backwards, resting his weight on the small table that held the water jug and basin. His hands gripping the sides. “What kind of guarantee can you give me?”

“My word.” Conner flicked his tongue over Tim’s balls.

He groaned at the sensation, bucking his hips involuntarily. Conner’s mouth was so close! 

“Not… good enough…” And he wasn’t sure if he was talking about the wolf’s promise or his mouth so close to his rock hard cock but not sucking it.

“What would be good enough?” Conner asked, pressing his thumb just behind Tim’s sack, making the hunter moan. “What promise can I make that will put you at ease?”

Tim moaned embarrassingly loud, desperate to feel his dick inside Conner’s hot wet mouth again. The goddamn cock-tease! “Don’t… know…” He groaned. “I’ll need to… need to research… in… library… Goddamn it, Conner! Put me in your mouth!”

“Like this?” He closed his lips around Tim’s balls and sucked gently, flicking his tongue over the sack at a rapid pace. 

“Oh… you bitch…” Tim groaned and tried to rub his hard cock over Conner’s face instead, spreading sticky pre-cum that glistened in the low-burning firelight over his eyes and forehead. 

Conner pulled away, a very wolfish grin on his face. “You know… I do have a perfectly serviceable library at my father’s manor in Hunterville. We could continue this conversation from the comfort of my bedroom.”

The mention of Conner’s home reminded Tim of his own. What would his family say when they learned that he took a werewolf as a lover? It wasn’t a question of ‘if’. Bruce would find out, Bruce always found out. That was what Bruce Wayne did. 

Dick probably wouldn’t care, so long as Tim wasn’t in any danger, and he was happy. Jason… eh, Jason would give him crap about it. Probably a double dose of crap, for not only falling in love with their sworn enemy but also another man. But Bruce… Bruce would want Conner dead. Might even try to force Tim to be the one to do it himself, as proof of his loyalty to the Wayne family and dedication to the Mission. That was all that mattered to Bruce, the Mission.

Conner was starring up at him. “Tim…? You okay?”

He looked down at the man kneeling in front of him. Taking in his broad shoulders, square jaw with a slight cleft in the chin, lips slightly parted, unearthly crystal eyes gazing up at him with sudden concern. He loved this man. It was ridiculous. Completely irrational. They hadn’t even known each other for a week! Yet, Tim knew it, deep down, if Bruce asked him to kill Conner, he wouldn’t do it. Couldn’t do it. 

And simply by loving Conner, he had placed him in danger.

“This was a mistake.” He muttered.

“What?” Conner stood. At his full height, the wolf was a good head taller than him and he looked down at Tim, confusion with the smallest hintings of fear coloring his otherwise handsome face. “What was a mistake?”

“This… Us… I made a mistake. I’m sorry.”

Conner grabbed him by the shoulders, careful not to touch the part wrapped in gauze lest the silver bleed through onto his own skin. “What are you saying!?”

“I’ve put you in danger.”

The wolf relaxed. His grip on Tim’s shoulders easing. “Oh. Is that all?” His hands traveled from his shoulders, down his back to grab the round cheeks of Tim’s ass. “That’s sweet that you worry about me. But Tim, I’m probably the second most powerful creature on this continent. There’s no danger that you can put me in I won’t be able to handle on my own.”

Tim shook his head. “You don’t know my father. He hates werewolves.”

Conner leaned down to lick the top of Tim’s ear and whisper, “I’m more than a mere werewolf, remember.”

It felt good, the closeness. Conner’s hands on his ass, his hot breath on his ear, his body pressed against Tim’s, their stiff desire rubbing against one another. But the hunter forced himself to stay focused. “Are you weak against Green Stone?”

The wolf pulled back, blinking at him. “How do you know about Green Stone?”

“My father knows about Green Stone.” Tim replied. “He has some.”

“But… how?” Conner pressed, disbelieving. “Nobody knows about Green Stone but my father and Kal-El.”

“My father is friends with Kal-El.”

“Your father… is friends with… He’s a werewolf hunter from Gotham who’s friends with Kal-El…” Conner took a step back, reeling. He placed a hand to his head as the realization hit him. “My god! Tim, you’re father… is the Bat! The Batman is your father!”

“Yes.”

“Oh my god!” He continued to back up until his legs hit the bed and he flopped down on his ass.

“Conner… are you okay?” Tim crossed the space between them. Now it was his turn to kneel in front of the wolf. Placing his hands on his knees, he looked up at his mate. “Do you already have a place ready for us to elope to? Because when Batman finds out about us… Conner, he’ll try to kill you.”

“He can try.” The wolf gave a confident smirk. 

“Conner, I’m serious. You don’t have a place ready yet. We couldn’t leave in the morning.”

Conner leaned back on the heels of his hands and sighed. “No. I don’t.” 

Tim nodded, this he already knew. “I can’t go to Hunterville with you. And you can’t come back to Gotham with me. Until you find a place where we can be together, I don’t think its wise for us to continue to see each other after tonight.”

“No!” Conner protested. He grabbed Tim by the shoulders and hauled him up to eye-level, pressing a searing hot kiss to his lips. “You’re my mate, Tim. Mine! Now that I have you I’m not letting you go!”

“Its just for a little while.” Tim pushed Conner flat on his back, leaning over him, his hands on either side of the wolf’s head. He bent down and pressed his lips to the hollow of his throat, up the neck, along his jaw line, then finally the lips. He lingered there, deepening the kiss, arms going slack, body laying flat over Conner’s.

Conner wrapped his arms around him. One hand cradling the back of his head, the other gripping his ass to keep him from sliding off –awkward position that they were in. He forced Tim’s lips apart with his tongue, demanding. Tim moaned loudly, sliding his body against Conner’s. The gauze wrapping holding his silver coins in place shifted with the friction of their bodies, exposing the warm metal. Conner hissed at the touch of the silver on his skin.

Tim jumped up, silver coins falling around him, bouncing off the bed and clattering to the floor. “Sorry! I’m sorry.”

Conner sat up, a hand going to scratch at the now suddenly red and inflamed flesh where the silver had touched him.

Tim lit a candle to better see by. He knew how susceptible to silver werewolves were. A cut from a silver blade, even if it wasn’t a killing blow, could cause almost near fatal damage by the simple grace that silver was a poison to them. Even just rubbed over the skin it irritated and inflamed, causing angry welts and painful rashes. Tim had seen it often enough out on hunts with Bruce, or in the interrogation room. He never thought he’d see it on someone he cared for. He didn’t know how to help. “God, Conner! What do I do?”

“Athelas!” He snarled, not meaning to sound as course as he did.

“’ Athelas’?” Tim echoed. “What’s that?”

“In my pocket…” Conner pressed his palm against the spot, fighting the urge to scratch –that would just spread the poison. He silently cured the uselessness of the so-called ‘invulnerability’ he was supposed to have inherited from Kal-El. It did jack-shit against silver. “An herb… magic.”

Tim cast his eyes about the room, looking for their discarded clothing. He saw his hat and beeches, Conner’s shirt and shoes, his coat, Conner’s waistcoat. Tim snatched up the dark purple waistcoat and began digging through the pockets, but all he found was a gold pocket watch bearing the stylized L of the Luthor family crest. “Its not here.”

“Coat!” Conner snapped.

The hunter scoured the room for the wolf’s overcoat, finally finding it on the opposite side of the room by the window. They must have shed it almost the moment they were back in the room. Funny Tim didn’t remember. He fished in the pockets, withdrawing from it a handful of crushed leaves. He presented them to Conner.

The wolf took them. Shoving the herb in his mouth, he chewed it into a paste before spitting it back out and slapping it on his silver-rash (though, ‘rash’ was a light term for it). The relief was almost instant and Conner heaved a sigh. “Thank you. Sorry for snapping.”

Tim sat on the bed next to him. The bright green coat still in his arms. “Its alright, I know what silver does.” He leaned over and prodded the sticky green past tentatively. “I don’t know what this is. I’ve never heard of ‘athelas’ before.”

“I hope not.” The wolf gave a short snort without mirth. “It would be very bad if all you hunters knew we had an antidote to the one poison you all depend so heavily on.”

“Why don’t I see more of your kind using it?” Tim asked, pulling an unused leaf from the pocket of the coat and examining it in the firelight. He memorized its shape and the feel of the leaf. It seemed like a resilient plant, one of the rare kind that could grow year round at almost any climate. Conner said it was magic. He added all this to his mental notes, intending to copy it down into his field journal later. 

“It louses its potency over time.” Conner explained. “Most wolves don’t carry it unless they already know they’re gonna encounter trouble. I’ve been making sure to have some on me every night since you gave me that nasty cut.”

“Sorry about that.” Tim flushed guiltily. 

“You already apologized for it and I’m fine.” Connor assured him. He flopped down on his back. “Alright, you win. Go back to Gotham. Come up with a story to tell the Batman. I’ll come for you when I’ve found a place. But I still want to see you when I can. Call for me when you find a safe moment for us to be together and I’ll get to you as fast as I can.”

“How?”

“I have excellent hearing. Just say my name and I’ll be there.”

Tim raised an eyebrow. “That’s not normal werewolf hearing. Is this another power you inherited from Kal-El?”

“Probably.” Conner shrugged. “He and I don’t talk much.”

Tim lay down next to him. Pulling the blanket over them, careful not to disturb the patch of salve that was still soothing inflamed skin. “Conner, my dear, this is going to be one complicated relationship.”

“Tim, my dear, its worth it.”

…

Conner strode through the corridors of Luthor manor as if he hadn’t just returned from a four-day excursion without telling anyone that he was even leaving in the first place. He smelled of sex and he smelled of Tim and he loved it. He met Mercy’s eyes when the woman sniffed inconspicuously as he passed, Conner smirked. ‘That’s right!’ He wanted to shout to the world. ‘I got a mate! Go ahead, smell it!’

She did not return his smirk with a congratulatory smile, as Conner felt was his due. Instead, she brushed past him in the hall, muttering a quick, “You’re father is angry.” Before disappearing down the corridor on some errand or another.

Father was angry. What else was new? Father was always angry about something. Whether it was some new column in the Daily Star periodical that smeared the honorable Luthor name, or Kal-El ruining one of his carefully laid plans to seize control of the colonies. Aw, hell! Father was upset by his tailor putting to much ruffle on his sleeves. That didn’t scare Conner. He would find it far more terrifying if father was happy about something instead. In all his three years of life, the alienus-wolf had never known his father to crack a smile of true pleasure or amusement.

Lex’s study was a wash of gray sunlight, streaming in through the glass pains of the large bay window. A warm fire crackled in a hearth, Lex leaning over it, a heavy iron poker to turn the coals in his hand. Conner ignored him and crossed the room to the rack of cubbies that held his father’s maps. Selecting one of the Spanish territory of Florida, he studied the island chain know as the Keys.

Finally tired of being ignored, Lex turned. “Where the hell have you been, boy!?”

“Out.” Conner replied shortly. He rolled up map of Florida and pulled out charts of the Caribbean. 

“Do you have any idea how sick out of my mind I was worried about you?” Worried that his weapon against Kal-El was missing, yes. Worried that his son was gone, no. Lex sniffed the air. “You stink of sex.”

Conner looked up from his maps to flash him a wolfish grin. “Thank you, father.”

“That wasn’t a complement. You should bath after laying with you mate.” He crossed the room and sniffed again, the corners of his mouth turning downwards in a frown of disapproval. “Its not a woman I smell on you…”

“No. He’s not.” And now Conner’s look was questioning. Would this be a problem?

“Well then, where is he?” Lex asked. “Let me meet this man that’s stolen you’re heart.”

“He’s not here.” Conner went back to his maps. “He’s taking this time to say goodbye to his family while I find a place for us to settle.”

Lex scoffed, laying his iron poker across the maps his son studied. “And you’re really serious about this ridiculous idea of yours to move to some island in the middle of god-knows-where and do nothing but drink coconut rum on the beach for the rest of your days.” 

“Yes, father, I am.” Conner moved back from the desk. He turned and headed back for the door. 

“And where are you off to now?”

“Out. Again.”

…

The coach did not arrive in Gotham until early evening, and it was dark by the time Tim finally made his way to Wayne manor. 

Alfred, his father’s gentleman’s gentleman offered to help him with his trunk, but Tim waved the help. Alfred was getting up there in years and he did so much for the Wayne family already that it was the least Tim could do to drag his own damn trunk inside. No sooner was the young hunter cross the threshold, however, than he was set upon by two strong arms clothed in a blue and black waistcoat. They wrapped themselves around Tim’s narrow shoulders in what had been begrudgingly dubbed the ‘Grayson Glomp’.

“Welcome home!”

“Richard! I thought you were in Bludhaven.” Tim snarled. Not because he wasn’t happy to see his eldest brother, but because he did not appreciate being accosted by an overly affectionate predator only moments after arriving home. (The assault of snuggles could at least wait until he had removed his hat and cloak!)

“Oh, Baby-Bird, I came home for the winter holidays.” Dick nuzzled his cheek, reminding Tim a little bit of Conner and he was horrified to realize he was blushing. “Ya know, before the ferries shut down because of the ice. Hey, are you blushing? Why are you blushing?” A trollish grin spread over his face. “Did something happen while you were out? I bet I can guess. You met a beautiful maiden on your quest, but her virtue was threatened by an evil scheming werewolf. You, as the hero that you are, fought the beast, saved the damsel in distress and in her gratitude she rewarded you with her womanly virtue.” 

“Uh…” Tim had no idea what to say to that. 

“But…” Jason appeared in the entrance hall, coming from the kitchen, a napkin full of roasted chestnuts in his hand. “…because its Tim, our little Virginbird, he had no idea what to do with the woman once he got her and came running home like a little yellow bellied pantie-waist instead.”

Tim glared at him.

“Oh, be nice.” Dick admonished. “He just got home. Hasn’t even hung his hat yet.”

“Oh? You’re aloud to mount him in the entry way like a gorilla in heat, but I can’t make snarky comments.” Jason shot back.

“I’ve got seniority.” Dick reached a hand out to pluck some chestnuts from Jason’s napkin.

“The hell that matters! Hey! Those are mine!”

Tim rolled his eyes at them, twisting out of Dick’s hold, the younger Wayne brother removed his cloak and hat and hung them on a peg in the entrance way. He cast a glance at Dick and Jason, but they were still squabbling like two cocks in a hen house, so he ignored them and dragged his trunk up the stairs without help.

Alone in his room, Tim began unpacking his belongings. Pulling out gentleman’s clothes for his daytime appearances and prowling suits for his nights spent hunting. The day clothes were placed in his closet; the hunter suits were laid out for Alfred to attend to when he was ready. Coin purse was placed in a desk drawer and locked. Inks, quills, and charcoals were placed in a different desk drawer –this one not locked. But when he got to his field journal, he paused.

There were notes in that book that he did not want anyone in the household to see. Things abut Conner that could be exploited –like the fact that he was related to Kal-El (though Tim was still hazy on the details), and that he was weak against Green Stone as well as silver. Then there was his notes on the athelas herb. Conner mentioned that it was a bit of a well-kept secret among the werewolf community, and from the point of view of a hunter, he could see why. 

Any hunter might try and burn the forest out to try and kill their supply of the magic medicine. But a hunter like Bruce… Bruce would probably try and grow a crop of the stuff himself. To study. To understand how it countered the silver-poisoning and figure out a way to prevent it. Or worse, find a way to engineer a new toxin from it. Tim wouldn’t put it past him. He had an almost religious belief that his adopted father could do anything if he wanted to.

Tim held the journal in his hands, not sure what to do. Should he lock it in his desk drawer? No. The lock was a joke, really. Everyone in the family could pick it easily. Hide it then? No. If it was stumbled on by accident that would just raise suspicions and the likelihood of someone actually reading it once they found it. Hide it in plain sight then? Tim did not like the idea, but it sounded like the best option at the moment. He quickly flicked through the pages, found the entry on the athelas plant with the leaf he’d taken from Conner’s coat pocket pressed between the pages. He removed the leaf and crushed it in his hand before closing the book and tossing it hap-hazardly on the desk, hoping it looked casual and unassuming where it lay. 

Then he went in search of Bruce. 

It would look suspicious if he didn’t report to the head of the family almost as soon as he returned. Bruce would know something was up. Tim knew he would never be able to hide his relationship with Conner forever –especially not if the wolf intended to try and visit him during the interim between now and their elopement- but every day he managed to stave-off the revelation was one more day Conner had to find a place for them.

Bruce was not in the study. That was expected. Tim crossed the room to the old grandfather clock that stood against the far wall and pulled down on the pendulum. A secret latch that held the back of the clock in place was released and the faux back swung aside for the young hunter to step through. Wayne manor had been build on top of a series of natural caves that ran all through the hills of this section of New Jersey. It was this series of caves where Bruce built his base of operations. The manor above was the picture perfect home of a respectable English gentleman living in the colonies. But the caves… the caves belong to the Bat.

Tim found him repairing the silver plating on a blade. Though it was the single most effective weapon against werewolves, silver was a notoriously soft metal and weapons made from silver or plated in silver needed constant mending.

He did not sneak up behind the Batman. Instead, he made a wide arch of the cavern chamber and came up at the man’s side. There he waited for Bruce to acknowledge him. 

The Batman did not look up from his work when he said, “I take it you failed.”

“I did not eliminate the target.” He answered in complete and total honesty.

“Did Kal-El interfere?”

“No. We were beyond Hunterville limits. I was outside the boundaries set by the alienus. I doubt he even knew I was there.”

“Something else happened.” It was a statement, not a question.

Tim knew not to hesitate. This was the most vital part of the conversation. If he made one mistake right here, then he might as well just tell all, thrown himself at his father’s feet and beg forgiveness for himself and mercy for his lover. “Yes.”

Bruce was silent, waiting for him to elaborate. 

“It was weird.” Tim suppressed the urge to sigh. “I’ve had three days to think about it and I’m still not sure what exactly happened. I had him in my sights, it was a clear shot. Then the wind changed and… I’m not sure what happened.”

The Batman was silent –thinking. He held the silver blade to his eyes, examining his work before dubbing it suitable for use in the field once again. “You will give me a written report.”

“Yes.” Tim nodded.

“Good.” The Batman set the blade on the worktable and stood, then he was Bruce again, affectionate doting foster father. He wrapped an arm around Tim and pulled him into a loose hug. “Its good to have you home. All my boys back under one roof for the holidays, lets hope I can survive it.” 

Tim gave a lighthearted chuckle. “Oh, I think its us that should worry about surviving you, Bruce.”

…

Port Royal was a very nice place. 

Apart from the pirates.

Well, pirate. Just one.

But after watching his swing from a merchant dock crane, while dodging musket shots and the fine men of the King’s Royal Navey, all while shackled in irons… Well, Conner had to admit that was the best pirate he’d ever heard of.

Perhaps Port Royal was not the place for him and Tim to settle down. To much excitement.

…

One of the nice things about all his brothers being home was that Tim could excuse himself from patrol. At least for one night. His excuses were that he had just returned home and was tired from his travels, and that he needed the time to write the report Bruce wanted. Both reasons were –more or less- true. But they were not Tim’s _real_

reason.

He promised Conner he would give up hunting. 

At the time, laying in bed together, in his warm embrace, it had seemed so easy and so right. Like it was not only the only logical, but also the only _possible_ move. Tim had taken a werewolf for a lover, so he should stop hunting werewolves. He didn’t want to get bitten and become one himself, Conner promised he wouldn’t bite him if he stopped hunting. Back at the inn it had seemed fair. It had seemed _right_.

Now, back at home, back with his family –back with Bruce. Tim realized just how difficult –ney, how near impossible that would be. If he just quit hunting, quit patrol, stopped doing the job he’d been doing consistently since he was adopted, then the Batman would know something was up. It would not take him long to discover Tim’s relationship with Conner. 

But he wouldn’t worry about that right now.

Well, he would. But at this precise moment he was given a free reprieve. 

Tim’s quill hovered over the blank page, one bold drop of dark ink had already dripped from the tip to stain the paper. He had no idea what to write. He could not lie. Bruce would see that as clearly as Tim now saw his own hand. But if he said to little, he would know his youngest son was hiding something. The matter was made all the more difficult by the fact that, at that precise moment, all Tim could think about was Conner on his knees in front of him.

Those crystal-blue eyes, shining in the firelight, gazing up the length of his body, soft lips slightly parted, warm breath on his balls and cock. Tim decided he liked having Conner on his knees. When they were together again, he would have to find a way to get him back in that position. Only this time, make sure he actually sucked him off. Not just tease him like a bitch!

Damn it. Now he was hard again.

Tim tossed his quill down, spattering ink all over the blank sheet on his desk. He stood, stripping off his clothes, leaving them on the floor where they fell, and crawled naked into bed.

He took hold of his stiff and rigid member and began stroking it rapidly. Thinking of Conner and his hands on him, his mouth on him… With his free hand, Tim tickled the inside of his thigh, remembering the way his lover had licked his way up from the knee. Then he moved to massage his balls. Finding that spot, just behind the sack, he pressed it with a finger and groaned at the sensation. 

Pre-cum leaked from his head and trickled down his shaft, making everything slick and oh-so-nice. He thought of how slippery Conner’s fingers had felt between his legs, behind his balls, on his backside… Tim moved his hand back up to his mouth and sucked on his fingers, wetting them with saliva before slithering the hand under him and prodding gently at his rim.

No… He was still just a little to raw and sore from his first time to be doing that.

He returned his attention to his balls and that spot just behind the sack that was almost as good. Working his shaft hard, a slight twist to the upstroke, pressing his fingers into that spot behind his balls while imagining that Conner was doing it all to him instead of himself, Tim pushing himself to a shuddering climax. 

Panting, he lay on the bed, on top of his covers. Sated, but not satisfied. 

…

Conner was calling it a day.

He had been all over the Caribbean, from Great Abaco down to the Grinadines. He found lost of really nice places, but nowhere the werewolf would want to settle. Tomorrow he would look into places on the other side of Panama. He had heard that the Isla del Coco and Isla de Malpelo were nice. Conner wasn’t quite sure if he wanted to live in a territory owned by the Spanish, but if it was nice and he could find a secluded spot to build his Compound…

Of course, after he found a place that he liked, Conner would still have to wait for Tim’s approval before he could buy any property or stake a claim to any land.

But he wouldn’t worry about that until after he found a place. Right now he just wanted to go home, curl-up in his bed, hug a large pillow and pretend it was his mate while hoping and listening for Tim to call him. Conner’s hearing was very good and he spent the past three nights memorizing the hunter’s heart-beat, breathing patterns and voice. For the most part, the wolf kept his super-hearing tuned down, to shut out the white noise of the rest of the world. But one ear would always be quirked listening to that heartbeat, to that breathing, waiting to hear that voice call him for a romantic rendezvous in some secret secluded location away from out of danger of being discovered by his father. 

The Batman.

Conner still couldn’t quite believe that the Batman –the most feared and fearsome werewolf hunter he’d ever heard of- was his mate’s father. The Batman was his father-in-law. Oh, sweet holy fuck! And here, Conner had always thought the Batman was a vampire of some kind. Well, shows how much he knew.

He slipped back into the manor house through his own bedroom window to ensure no one like Mercy, Hepperson, or his father would bother him. True, it was only his first day of looking, but Conner was still disappointed to have found nothing suitable and he really did not want to have to admit that to Lex. 

Shutting the window behind him, he cast a glance at the fireplace and, seeing that one of the household staff had been kind enough to prep it with fresh kindling and a few logs, he sent a burst of his heat vision to the hearth. The fireplace roared to life, casting a warm glow about the room and slowly chasing away the chill. Not that the winter chill actually bothered him, but it was slightly more comfortable to sleep in a warm room as opposed to a not-warm one. What would be really nice was if Tim were here to sleep with him.

That would be perfect.

Conner imagined himself carrying his mate over the threshold of his room, or perhaps their new home (once he found one). He would shoot a look at the hearth and start a fire just as he’s done just now. Would Tim be impressed? Conner wanted to impress him. He told the hunter about his powers, but at the time he seemed more confused –and perhaps a bit more concerned- than he did impressed. He wanted to make Tim’s eyes go wide and hear the man exclaim, ‘Wow, you’re amazing!’

Then he would answer with something smug like, ‘You haven’t seen just how amazing I can be…’

Then he would lay Tim down on the bed. Slowly, remove his clothes. No! Slowly remove his clothes with his TTK, not actually touching his mate. Yes… that would make it a nice slow torture, heighten his arousal, make him crazy with desire. 

Like he was once Conner finally got him bent-over. Horney beyond comprehensions, just begging for the wolf to move his dick, practically screaming that he was his, that he was his mate, that he needed Conner… 

That was what he wanted.

But Tim wasn’t here right now. He was almost two hundred miles away in Gotham, doing who-knows-what. Was he thinking of him? Conner hoped so. He craned his super-hearing trying to pick up on his mate’s heartbeat and breathing pattern. 

He heard the increased heart rate and heavy breathing that was characteristic of either arousal, or panic. Conner hoped it wasn’t panic. Tim should have no reason to panic within his own home. (Unless the Bat had already discovered their relationship.) But then he heard Tim release a heady groan and knew it was arousal. Tim was masturbating. Was he thinking of him? Conner hoped so.

The wolf stripped off his clothes and crawled into bed, listening to his mate’s heavy breathing from two hundred miles away. If he heard Tim say his name at all, even just the barest of gasps, he would shoot off to Gotham to be with him. He should be there right now; to give his mate the he so craved himself. But the hunter said it wasn’t safe for them to see each other until Conner found a place for them. And the wolf definitely didn’t want to go barging into the Batman’s own home! Not just because of all the stories he’d heard about the man left him a little frightened, but also because he didn’t want to get Tim in trouble with his father.

So, as much as he wanted to rush over there and crawl into bed with his mate, he would not. Not unless Tim called him.

So, Conner was forced to be satisfied with just his hands and Tim’s breathy moans to push him to a solitary and slightly less satisfying climax. Masturbation just wasn’t fun anymore, not now that he’d had real sex.

…And that was how both past their first night apart.

…


	4. Secret Rendezvous

In the end, Tim didn’t put anything in his written report that he hadn’t already told Bruce. He left Gotham at such time. Took four days to travel to just outside Hunterville limits. Set-up base at a roadside inn. Engaged target after dark. Failed to eliminate target. Etc. He threw in some key phrases like ‘was not adequately prepared’ and ‘more study and preparation required’. Tim still had his misgivings, but he couldn’t procrastinate on it longer than a night or else Bruce would become suspicious. It seemed Bruce would become suspicious no matter what he did. The trick would be choosing the lesser of two evils.

Then there came the question of how he was going to avoid hunting from now on.

Tim spent a good majority of the following day pondering that question and dreading the evening when he’d be expected to pull on his black and red hunting suit and join his father and brothers on the prowl. He promised Conner he’d stop hunting. But if he did stop hunting then Bruce would know something had happened. Could he go out on hunts but not actually do anything? Possibly. But the longer he did that, the greater chance of him being discovered. 

Then there was Conner to consider. 

How did they expect to communicate between Hunterville and Gotham in the dead of winter when the post had stopped running, no private couriers could get through the passes and there were no other subtle ways of communication? Conner claimed to be able to hear him when he spoke, no matter how far away they were from one another. But what about him? Tim had no such power. How was Conner to get a message to him when he finally did find a place for them to elope to? Just show up in the middle of whatever Tim was doing at that moment?

Yes. Oh god, that would be exactly what he would do!

Tim couldn’t let that happen. What if he flew in while he was in the middle of one of his public appearances as Timothy Wayne? Oh god! What if he flew in while he was talking to Bruce!? Bruce would recognize him instantly as Conner Luthor. There was no question of that. He would realize that Tim’s lover was a werewolf, but not just any werewolf, the son of one of their greatest enemies. And, depending on how Conner chose to make his entrance and how Bruce chose to react to said entrance, the Batman would probably also realize rather quickly Conner’s connection to Kal-El. Then out would come the Green Stone in addition to the silver. 

Not a happy scenario.

Tim threw his windows open and leaned out, his arms resting on the snow-caked sill. He was hit in the face by a blast of frigid air and grit his teeth against the sudden pins and needles feeling against his skin. 

“Conner? Can you hear me?” He inquired of the empty air, feeling like an utter and complete fool for talking to himself.

Within seconds, that empty air was suddenly filled with the figure of Conner Luthor, hovering in front of him. “Yes.”

“Goddamnit!” Tim closed his fist around the wolf’s belt-buckle and dragged him inside before Alfred or anyone else could see, and hoping that no one had already. He didn’t think he could explain a mysterious flying man hovering outside his bedroom window, and if he did manage to find an explanation, he was sure no one would believe it. He let go of Conner as soon as he was fully in the room and dashed to shut the window behind him. “Don’t do that!”

“Do what?” The wolf blinked in innocents. “You called me. So I came. Do you wanna make love again?”

He looked so cute and hopeful when he asked that. Tim was sure that if Conner had a tail, he would be wagging it right now.

“No.” The hunter stated flatly. “I wanted to tell you that when you do find a place for us to elope to, you can’t just show up here and whisk me away. We need to figure out a way for you to send me messages without my family finding out. You might be able to hear me no matter where you are, but I have no such power.”

Conner did not seem the least bit deterred by Tim’s rejection of the proposed sex. Instead, he closed the space between them and wrapped both arms about his waist. “I don’t see anyone here now.” He purred. “Lets make love and then worry about that later.”

Tim felt himself go rigid at the closeness, his desire pressing against the fabric of his breeches. The idea of sex was suddenly very appealing, and he knew Conner could both feel and smell it on him. “Not here.”

“Why not…?” Conner leaned down to kiss the juncture between Tim’s shoulder and neck. Then his jaw line, cheek, eyebrow. Then he whispered in his ear, “I want you…”

A shudder ran through the hunter at the feel of Conner’s hot breath in his ear and he cursed his own weakness for allowing his lover to have such a strong effect on him. Still, this was Bruce Wayne’s house. He couldn’t make love to a werewolf in the Batman’s home. “Someone could hear us…”

“Then maybe I should fill your mouth with something to keep you quiet…” He closed his mouth over Tim’s; his tongue slithering its way between his suddenly parted lips. The wolf’s hands went to his belt, not Tim’s, his own. Breeches were slid off of narrow hips and Conner pulled his mouth away slowly. “Suck me like you did the other night.”

Tim licked his lips, liking the sound of that command. Conner’s voice had a deep feral quality to it that wound Tim up and made him want to agree to almost anything. But… “What’s gonna keep you from making any noise?”

“I can be quiet when I need to.” Conner stroked himself with one hand while he ran a thumb over Tim’s bottom lip with the other. “You have such a pretty mouth, Tim…”

Tim met Conner’s eyes, cobalt blue to crystal-blue, and sucked on the tip of his thumb suggestively, flicking his tongue over it rapidly. “Hm, I donno… I seem to remember you talking quite a bit while I was sucking you the other night. I think you should suck me.” Tim unfastened his own breeches and slid them off his narrow hips. He smiled up at his lover. “On your knees.”

Conner did not move. Instead, he grinned suggestively. “How’re you gonna suck me, if I’m on my knees sucking you?”

Tim returned his suggestive grin with a smirk of his own. “Something tells me you’ve already got an idea.”

“Lay down on your bed. On your side.” The wolf ordered.

Tim did as he was told, backing up onto his bed and lying on his side, pants still down, hard erection poking out, dripping pre-cum on the bedspread. Conner laid down facing him, feet pointed in the opposite direction, resting on the pillows. 

Tim gave a momentary cringe. “Could you take your shoes off.”

Conner gave a groan of impatience in response. “I can see living with you is going to be difficult.”

He kicked off one shoe and it clattered on the floor loudly. 

“Quietly!” Tim hissed barely above a whisper. “If you’re discovered here then it’s all over for us!”

“Sorry. Sorry.” Conner groaned and sat up to pull the second shoe off and set it carefully on the floor without a sound. He then laid back down, Tim’s slightly diminished erection in his face. “Stay with me, Timmy.” He cooed. Breath hot on its tip. 

He slid Tim’s pants farther down his hips to gain better access to his organ. Grasping the shaft with one hand and stroking Tim’s balls with the other, Conner flicked his tongue over the tip. Stroking gently, he worked the head and shaft until his mate was once again rock-hard and dripping.

Readjusting his position, Conner angled his own hips to shove his own erection in the hunter’s face –a not-so-subtle hint. “Come on, Tim. Being mates is all about sharing.”

That was the last thing the wolf said before closing his mouth around Tim’s cock and sucking gently. 

Tim sighed with appreciation and bucked his hips, shoving himself deeper down his lover’s throat. Conner had no gag-reflex and it was blissful the way his throat hugged his dick, while his tongue polished the shaft and lips massaged his base. To show his appreciation, Tim took the wolf’s hard member in his own mouth and began giving it a similar treatment (though, Tim DID have a gag-reflex and couldn’t take him quite as deep).

And then something occurred to him. 

Conner was half-alienus!

He probably wasn’t as fragile as a normal person. Tim could be much rougher with him than he could with another partner. He didn’t have to worry about being gentle. –Theoretically, of course. Experimentally, Tim lightly –very lightly- scraped his teeth over his lover’s shaft. This produced only a soft sigh from the wolf, so Tim tried again –harder this time.

Conner moaned around his dick, and that felt very pleasant. So, Tim continued this treatment, teasing his lover’s cock with lips and tongue and teeth. Until Conner was moaning so loudly, he had to force his head down, grinding the wolf’s face against his pelvis and shoving his dick as deep down his throat as it would go, just to keep him quiet.

Tim liked that. Pushing Conner around. Forcing his face down on his dick. Shoving his cock down his throat. Conner’s throat felt oh, so, good!

Then he was cumming, and his lover was swallowing it all down. 

If it weren’t for Conner’s cock still in his mouth, Tim was sure his groans and moans as his orgasm rocked him would have attracted the attention of the whole household. 

And then Conner was the one having to hold Tim’s face down to keep him quiet. Thrusting into his throat, aggravating his gag-reflex. The muscles of his throat contracted around Conner’s head as they tried to force him back out, all tight and wet… But the wolf forced himself in, almost choking Tim with his stiff dick. Only pulling out right before he came to avoid choking his mate for real with his thick and sticky load. 

He came on Tim’s face and the hunter licked it from his lips. 

“See?” Conner panted softly. “We can be quiet when we need to be.”

Tim whipped his face on the bedspread and rolled over on his back, satisfied. But the euphoria of his orgasm ebbed away quickly when he was reminded of the necessity of being quiet and the reasons behind it. They wouldn’t just need a way to send messages that Batman didn’t know about, they’d need to find a place to make love where they wouldn’t be disturbed and could be as loud as they want to without fear of discovery. 

They couldn’t do inns as they had before. The passes would be closing soon from the snows and anything inside the city ran the risk of someone recognizing one or both of them. That wouldn’t do!

What were their other options then?

Tim would have to explore that later. 

“From now on,” he muttered softly, “don’t come just when I say your name. Wait for me to actually say ‘come here’, or ‘I need to see you’, or something like that.”

“Okay.” The wolf sighed, snuggling up close.

Tim pushed him away. “No, no. There’ll be none of that. You shouldn’t even be here at all; you’re not staying any longer than you need to. Pull your pants up, put your shoes on, and get out.”

…

Bruce, Dick and Jason slept most of the day away, so did Tim –sort of. He didn’t so much sleep as he did curl up in his sheets that smelled of sex and ponder how he was going to both avoid hunting from now on and keep his secret from Bruce.

In the end, no answer came to him.

He was jolted from his musings towards the early evening by Jason pounding roughly on his door, reminding him that patrol would be starting soon and that he wouldn’t be excused a second night in a row. 

Forcing all hesitation out of his movements, Tim rolled out of bed and made his way down to the Cave. Bruce and Richard were already in uniform, Jason was halfway dressed. Tim didn’t meet anyone’s eyes as he crossed the Cave to his own uniform and began changing as if nothing were amiss and he hadn’t just had oral sex with their sworn enemy hours earlier. 

“So, how was it last night?” Tim asked, hoping he sounded casual. “It’s a waning moon, so I imagine there weren’t many out.”

Richard shrugged in his black suit with the blue figure of a non-descript bird over the chest. “A fair few.”

“It’ll be a new moon again soon enough.” Bruce growled, the cowl he wore over his face making him look ferocious even to Tim who’s seen him in costume more times than could be counted and should be used to the sight. “Then they’ll be out in force again.”

Tim nodded as he pulled on his own cowl. There was a pattern to werewolf activity and it followed the phases of the moon. During a waxing moon, as it was slowly climbing to fullness, werewolves became restless and acted out more often and more violently. The nights leading up to the full moon became progressively busier and busier for Tim and his family. But the night of the full moon, ugh! that was a nightmare. 

Through out the rest of the month, werewolves could control their transformations at will, they could remain human or shift into their wolf form (or any variation between) at their leisure and change back whenever it suited them. But not during a full moon. The full moon forced the transformation and they had no say in the mater. The night of the full moon was the single busiest night of the month for the bat-clan.

But, after the full moon, which it once again began to wane, so too did werewolf sightings and violent werewolf activity in general. Until the new moon when everything started all over again. 

Lather, rinse, repeat. 

Tim met Conner during the waning moon. During a time where werewolves were supposed to be calmer, more placid, less volatile. What would he be like after the new moon? What about on the night of the full moon? Begrudgingly, Tim was forced to admit that he didn’t actually know much about the man that was his lover. Being half-alienus, how strongly did the phases of the moon still affect him? What did his wolf-form look like? Did he even have a wolf-form? He was never documented in having a transformation.

“C’mon, Red Robin, pick up your feet!” Jason gave him a very hard kick in the ass, pushing him towards the Cave’s exit. 

…

The four of them broke apart and went there separate ways as soon as they were out of the Cave. It was a waning moon and no one expected much excitement. There was no need to buddy-up. 

Tim’s patrol rout took him on a wide trek around the outskirts of the city. He walked the edge between the wild woods and the city, using all of the tracking skills Bruce had thought him, not to hunt, but to evade. A bent branch, tracks in the snow, marks on trees, depressed underbrush… all were evidence of another creature’s passing. When Tim saw something that indicated another person, wolf, or werewolf was near, he doubled back and took another path.

He didn’t want to meet anything tonight. He didn’t want to be put in a position to choose between keeping his promise to Conner and staying true to his family’s Mission. It helped that it was a waning moon and there wasn’t much werewolf activity overall. 

That was how Tim spent his first night back on patrol.

…

The second night found Tim following the same patrol rout. Only this time he did run into a werewolf. Quite by accident. They reacted at the same time. Both assuming the other would instantly attack, both werewolf and hunter attempted a preemptive strike (and pretty much proved each other right). Tim pulled his staff from his belt and extended the poll, while the wolf slipped into a half-transformation, still maintaining his human shape but gaining sharp claws and teeth. 

He was a monstrous sight. Clothing torn, patches of gray fur sticking out through the tears in the fabric. Long muscular limbs that ended in sharp claws that were easily capable of rending flesh from bone. And an elongated jaw, full of sharp teeth and fangs, the bite of which was what transferred the werewolf’s curse. It was a frightening sight for anyone to see. 

But Tim wasn’t scared. He’d seen it all before. 

One hard thrust with the staff put a bit of distance between himself and his opponent while also knocking the wind out of him. While the wolf was dazed and catching his breath, Tim made a hard swing at his feet, knocking the monster’s legs out from under him. But it was as he was pulling a silver-bladed batarang from his belt that he paused. 

He promised Conner he wouldn’t hunt werewolves anymore. But would his lover forgive him killing in self-defense? Tim didn’t know. Certainly, he would forgive kicking the crap out of one. If he was attacked he would defend himself and if Conner wanted him alive and well enough to make love too, then he shouldn’t have a problem with that. But what about going that extra step and kill his opponent to make sure he never returned to become a threat?

Tim just didn’t know if Conner would forgive him that?

There was a lot about Conner and he still didn’t know.

Tim placed the ‘rang back in his belt without even fully withdrawing it. He brought the end of his staff down on the werewolf’s chest. Impacting hard, but not hard enough to cause any permanent damage. He held the monster down, glaring at him through the eye-slits of his mask. “I’m going to let you go.” He informed the wolf. “But in return for my generosity, you have to leave Gotham. Tonight, before the passes close for winter.”

The werewolf didn’t answer at first. He just stared up at Tim. Then, finally, “What are you? You look like one of the Bat’s henchmen, but I can smell one of us on you.”

A sudden jolt of panic lanced through him. He hadn’t been with Conner at all today and he bathed after making love to him yesterday. Nobody should be able to detect his scent on Tim’s skin. Unless… there was something else at play. Magic. He reminded himself. Werewolves were part magic. Oh, god! What if Bruce could somehow detect it too? 

Tim forced himself to calm down. Panicking wouldn’t solve anything. He was smart. He’d figure something out.

To the werewolf he only snarled, “LEAVE!”

Tim let the creature up and watched him dash away. He waited a reasonable amount of time to make sure the monster wasn’t circling around to get him from behind before he also left. Striking out through the trees in the opposite direction. He hoped he wouldn’t come upon anyone else tonight –friend or foe. He needed some time to collect his thoughts. 

Not far into the trees, Tim came to a shallow cave and he slunk inside to hide for the rest of the night. He would return to the Batcave early in the morning as he always did and pretend nothing was amiss. But for right now, he just wanted to hide. 

It was then, as he was sitting cross-legged in the cave that he remembered that the whole countryside was rattled with caves! If he could find one large enough that did not connect to the Batcave, then he and Conner could continue to see each other during this brief period of separation. It would also been a safe way for Conner to bring him news of his search for a place for them. He could leave messages for Tim in the cave and Tim would check it every night. It could work!

He just needed to find one that met his criteria.

…

The third night, Tim went out in uniform as he always did. But he didn’t even bother with the pretence of a patrol before fading into the naked trees of the backwoods of Gotham. He was on a mission and he intended to complete it by the end of the night. To find a suitable place where he and Conner could rendezvous for message exchanges and romantic trysts. 

The small inlet island that Gotham had been built on was rittled with caves. So much so that sometimes Tim imagined the place looking like a piece of the cheese the Swiss made. The trick was finding a cave that was large enough for them to stand-up in, deep enough to actually hide them from anything that might be lurking outside, and most importantly of all, was not a part of the passage network connected to the Batcave.

Tim searched all night. But it wasn’t until the waning moon was low over the trees that he finally found a place he might deem worthy.

At first, Tim was willing to over look it. The entrance dipped low and he had to crouch, walking hunched over with his knees bent to get inside. But once inside the tunnel opened up to where he could just comfortable stand. Conner would still have to bend a little it because he was so tall. But for Tim it was perfect. He lit a light from his tender box to see by. The tunnel was an isolated shaft, not connected to any other caves –which was perfect- and it bent into an almost L shape with the dead-end widening into a chamber that (by cave standards) could be called ‘luxurious’. 

With something soft to cover the floor, a few pillows and a blanket, with some candles or a lamp for light, it would be the perfect location for secret rendezvous and romantic trysts. Taking a deep breath and still not entirely used to speaking to empty air, he said, “Conner, could you come here please?”

There was the sound of a THUMP outside the cave, as of something suddenly dropping down in the snow. Then, “Tim…? Are you in there?” Moments later the wolf appeared in the cave, brushing snow off his coat sleeves and looking confused. “What are we doing here?”

Tim spread his arms wide, letting his small light flicker on the unevenly cut stone walls of the cave. “What do you think?”

Conner looked around. Noted the smooth floor, the jagged walls, the low ceiling that forced him to bend slightly. “I think I’m still confused.”

With a sigh, Tim set his tiny light down and made a mental note to smuggled a lamp out of the manor next time. A lamp and a blanket. And a pillow. He pulled down his cowl and unfastened his cape, laying it on the floor between them. “Come here.”

His lover looked from the cape on the floor, laid out like a picnic blanket then back up to Tim. The hunter sat down and started unfastening his boots. Then it clicked. 

“Oh.” In an instant, Conner was sharing his makeshift blanket and pulling Tim into his lap. He nuzzled his ear, running fingers through his thick dark hair. “You found a place for us to be together while we’re apart.”

…


	5. A Deal Broken

Reclining in the cave, Conner enjoyed the feel of his mate’s hands gliding over his skin. It had been several nights since Tim found this secret spot for them to meet at. Since then, Conner furnished it with furs, blankets and pillows. It was a perfect little love-nest. He called it their ‘Den’. Tim bristled at the name a little bit, but it didn’t take much to convince him. After all, Conner made a very compelling argument. Very compelling. Tim _came_ around to his side.

“Your skin’s so smooth.” Tim muttered in his ear. One palm slid over the plain of his abs while the other hand caressed his cheek and neck, fingers curled. He was on top of the wolf, straddling his thighs, leaning down low to whisper in Conner’s ear.

The wolf gazed up at his mate. The hunter’s face was thrown into shadow by the single oil lamp perched on a tall stone behind him. The lamp was Tim’s lone contribution to their little Den. He said it was too difficult for him to sneak large blankets and pillows out of the Batcave.

Conner ran his hands over Tim’s arms and back, feeling the rough texture of his scars. How some were scratchy like sandpaper, while others were jagged, rigged, or rough. He traced their patterns with his fingertips, imagining them in his mind and matching his tactile perception of them to how they actually look on the man’s body. He liked Tim’s skin. No two inches of flesh were the same. He was like living marble. Or abstract art.

“I like your skin.” Conner muttered.

“I wish I were invulnerable like you.” Tim whispered and his mouth by Conner’s ear suddenly closes on his ear-lobe, teeth biting down in a way that would have made the wolf go hard if he hadn’t already been rigid with desire for the past fifteen minuet. The hunter trailed kisses and love-bites down Conner’s neck, to his shoulder, then over his chest. Biting hard, wishing he could leave marks on the wolf’s immaculate flesh. But when he got to one tight nipple, he switched from biting to sucking.

Conner arched his back at the sensation. And he felt Tim smile against his skin.

His mate had become quite adept at this slow, torturous teasing over the past few days. At first their lovemaking had always been hurried and frantic. With Tim always anxious to push them both to a satisfying climax as quickly (and as quietly) as possible –so as to avoid discovery. But since finding this cave, their little love-Den, his lovemaking became slower, more deliberate, and languid. It drove Conner breathless and crazy.

Tim lifted his mouth from the tight nipple just enough to blow on it softly, making the wolf shudder. “Ya know… for someone who’s supposed to be ‘invulnerable’, you’re really sensitive.”

Conner wanted to say something witty in response to that. But nothing came to mind. Instead, all his arousal-addled brain managed to churn-out was, “Ya-uh… huh.”

And Tim just smiled down at him, in that teasing, knowing way. He knew just what he did to Conner and he loved the power it gave him. One hand sliding down… down… to run a finger over the tip of Conner’s stiff erection. Wet and dripping. Leaking pre-cum all over himself.

Conner moaned embarrassingly loud and Tim’s knowing smile turned into grin of satisfaction. “Really? From that little touch.”

The wolf slid his hands down his mate’s back to cup the round cheeks of his ass. He tried to maneuver the hunter over his rigid member, straining for a release.

But Tim lifted himself out of the wolf’s hands. “Ah, ah, ah.” He admonished. Hands still stroking Conner’s stiff cock, slicking his fingers with pre-cum. “This time, I wanna top.”

“You are on top.” Moaned the werewolf, desperation coloring his voice.

“Not what I meant.” Tim gave an impish smile. His fingers, slippery with Conner’s pre-cum drifted down, past his balls, down, to prod at the wolf’s hole. Running circles around the rim, spreading the cum, making the area slick and slippery.

“Oh.” His crystal-blue eyes widened as understanding dawned.

Tim’s impish smile turned sultry and his lips looked oh-so-kissable in that moment. Conner would have leaned up to mash their mouths together if his mate didn’t choose that exact moment to slip his finger in. Just one finger at first. Pressing in, stretching the unused tissue, opening him up.

Conner gasped then moaned.

“You like that, baby?” Tim ginned, pressing deeper, searching for that same spot on Conner.

“I…” Conner gasped. “I’m really strong, Tim. What if… ha, what if I squeeze… you to hard?”

His mate’s hand stilled for a moment, his cobalt-blue eyes turning pensive. Conner recognized the look as Tim assessing a situation, weighing the pros and cons, make calculations. The wolf could only imagine what the hunter was thinking, ‘uncontrollable muscle spasm’, ‘fingers or even penis crushed’… Painful thoughts. Very un-sexy.

Conner’s hand closed around Tim’s stiff cock, stroking slowly. “Hey, don’t let that spoil the mood.”

Propping himself up on his elbows, the wolf captured the hunter’s mouth in his. Tongues intertwining, tasting and savoring each other. Conner quickened his strokes on Tim’s rigid erection and he smiled at the moan of appreciation that came from his mate. Then he felt Tim slip in a second finger.

Conner pulled away. “What did I just say?”

“I’ve reached a conclusion.” Hs mate explained, almost matter of factly. Wriggling his fingers, scissoring them, still looking for that spot. “You are very strong. And since we became lovers I have always been the one on bottom. Now, you could easily tear me in two, right up the middle. But you don’t. So, you must be able to maintain a decent level of self-control during sex. I think you’re just making excuses because you don’t want to give up the dominant position.”

“That’s not- ah~!”

And then Tim found the spot. That one sensitive nerve-cluster right behind the prostate. The hunter smiled and slipped in a third finger. “That’s not what?”

“Fuck, Tim!” Conner groaned, circling his hips now, pressing his mate’s fingers against that spot. “Fuck!”

“Aw… I think you like this.” That smile turned flirtatious and coy, almost playful, and the wolf knew that more slow torture was coming his way. “But maybe you’re right. It might be dangerous for me to penetrate you. Maybe I should stop…”

He began to withdraw his fingers.

The teasing bastard!

“No…” Conner whined. 

“No?” Tim echoed. That evil smile widening.

“Alright.” The wolf groaned. “Alright. You can top. I… I want you to top.”

…

Tim had been acting strange for some time now. Since he got back from his failed mission to assassinate the Luthor boy. Finally, Bruce ordered Dick to follow him and report back what Tim actually did while on patrol. He kept taking the same rout every night and since it was still a waning moon, the Dark Knight was skeptical that that area really needed that much attention.

The Nightwing kept a conservative distance from his younger brother. Tim was an expert tracker, they all were, and could tell when they were being followed. The tracks lead to what looked like a small cave with a slight over-hang concealing the entrance. Nightwing crept to it slowly, not exactly sure what his baby-brother might be doing sneaking off to a cave in the middle of nowhere at all hours of the night when he was supposed to be patrolling like the rest of them.

Echoing out from the cave, Dick heard two distinct male voices, grunting and groaning frantically and he instantly assumed it was a fight. Tim was a master of close-quarters combat. He should be fine on his own, but the Nightwing still crept under the low entrance of the cave to offer what help he could to his little brother. 

The passage inside was much larger than the outside would imply. Dick could almost stand up to his full height and the passage continued on for several feet before curving out of sight. He took a moment to study his surroundings. It was dark, but a soft dim light shone just around the curve at the back of the cave where the sounds of the fight were coming from. It was much warmer and much, much more humid in the cave than he would have expected and that was odd.

Then he heard Tim exclaim, “Fuck!”

And the Nightwing rushed around the bend to find-

…Not what he had expected. –At all!

Their backs were to him. Completely naked, bent over on top of a bed of furs and blankets, pillows thrown every which way. A single lone oil lamp burned on top f a tall rock beside the bed and Dick recognized it as one from Tim’s room at the mansion. His Red Robin uniform was folded neatly, off to the side; the other man’s clothes were strewn about the cave hap-hazardly. But Dick barely registered all this. His attention was fixed on his baby-brother, his innocent little baby-brother! Sweat dripping down his back, the droplets zig-zagging over his jagged scars, palms pressed against the shoulders of the man underneath him, moaning out profanities as he climaxed.

Of course, the sounds of sex and the sounds of violence were near indistinguishable from one another without context. Of course he would think his INNOCENT baby-brother was in a fight rather than having a fuck. Oh! What a shock to his system this was.

“What the hell!?” Dick heard himself say.

Tim froze. 

Every muscle in his exposed back going tense. He turned slowly, as if dreading what he would see behind him. Cobalt blue eyes filled with plaintive panic. “Ri- Nightwing! Uh… this isn’t what it looks like!”

Dick made a noise halfway between a croak and babble.

Tim grabbed the edge of a blanket and threw it over his… partner, lets go with partner, muttering a quiet, “Stay down. I can handle this.” To Dick, he asked, “What are you doing here?”

He might have been the eldest of the Batman’s protégés, but the Nightwing still found himself at a complete and utter loss for words. Tim was his innocent little baby-brother. Their little ‘Virginbird’! Timmy! Of all the weird and eccentric things Tim did in his free time, homosexual sex was not even on Dick’s list of possibilities. 

Yet here he was. In bed with another man. –A man who’s identity he wanted to remain anonymous, as evident by Tim covering him up the moment he realized Dick was there. That just raised another set of questions. Sadly, that set of questions was asked by the detective part of his brain, and the detective part of his brain was currently over-ridden by the older-brother part of his brain, which was currently screaming, Ohmygod! Ohmygod! Ohmygod!’ At high volume. In multiple languages. ‘Oh mon dieu!’ ‘Ay dios mio! ’ ‘Oh mein gott!’

“Nightwing…?” Tim ventured again, also pulling something over to cover his own nakedness. “Why are you here?”

“I…” Dick sputtered. His words completely failing him. Baby Timmy! Tim couldn’t really be having sex! Especially not with another man! Although… that did explain why he never seemed all that interested in the ladies… But- but- but Timmy!

“May I say something?” Asked the man under the blanket. 

“No!” Tim snapped, almost using his ‘Robin voice’. “I told you something like this would happen. As far as I’m concerned, this is your fault. You’re just lucky it was Nightwing that found us and not Red Hood or Batman.”

So, his lover was someone Tim believed Bruce wouldn’t approve of. 

“Nightwing, what do I have to do to keep this from getting back to Batman?” Cobalt blue eyes glared at him sternly.

“I…” Dick began again. Then, it seemed his brain finally, finally caught up with his eyes and he blurted out, “You were having sex!”

“Yes.” Tim acknowledged. “And I don’t want Batman to find out. What do I have to do to keep you silent? Pay you half my monthly allowance? Talk you up to Miss Gordon? Cover cases in Bludhaven when you want to pretend you have a social life?”

“You were having sex!” Dick repeated.

“Yes, we’ve established that.” Tim nodded patiently.

“But… but you’re our little Virginbird!” And if Dick’s voice cracked a little bit when he said that, all three men pretended not to notice out of respect.

The man under the blanket gave a snort and then scoffed, “Not anymore.”

“You’re not helping!” And Tim gave the figure under the blanket a reprimanding smack.

“Ha-how long?” Asked the Nightwing.

“How long, what?” His baby-brother blinked, not understanding the question.

“How long have you…?” He nodded to the figure concealed under the blanket. 

“Since my last mission.” Tim answered truthfully.

“And who is… he?” It was a little surprising how much trouble Dick had with that last syllable. It wasn’t bad enough that Tim was no longer the pure and virtuous little boy he called his brother, his little baby-bird, but also that said virtue had been taken –no, stolen- by another man. A man! Not a woman, a man! That just knocked Dick off his feet. Innocent little Timmy!

“Someone Batman will disapprove of.” Came Tim’s grave and sober reply. 

And that told Dick more than any other answer could have. There were very few things Bruce wouldn’t approve of so far as his children were concerned. While he sort of frowned when he and Jason chased girls and pursued romantic relationships, he didn’t actually disprove of them so long as they did not interfere with the Mission. That was his big thing –the Mission. He wouldn’t care that Tim preferred to sleep with men rather than women so long as his escapades didn’t interfere with the Mission. So then, why would Bruce disapprove of this particular man?

“Werewolf.” It came out as another croak. As if this situation hadn’t been shocking enough for him.

Tim’s eyes went wide for a moment with surprise. Then he remembered that his older-brother was also a detective, and also lived with Bruce Wayne, and he lowered his gaze with resignation. “Yes.”

At that admission, Dick crossed the space between them, grabbed Tim by the wrist and pulled the younger man to his feet.

“Richard! What are you doing?” It was a testament to just how shocked he was that Tim let slip his brother’s real name rather than use his handle.

Dick ignored his protest and examined his little-brother’s neck and shoulders, chest and back, arms and legs, even going so far as to tip him over and examine the bottoms of his feet. He scrutinized every inch of Tim’s flesh. Examining and reexamining every scar to make sure they weren’t concealing a newer wound, a bite wound.

“What the hell!?” Demanded the younger man.

“Let him go!” Tim’s lover threw the blanket off himself, leaping to his feet. A silent snarl on his lips, crystal-blue eyes glaring at the Nightwing.

Dick studied him for a moment. Tall and muscular, around Tim’s own age, immaculate body, unblemished skin, dark haired, blue eyed, square-jawed. Very handsome. It was no wonder Tim liked him. But he was a werewolf and that meant he was dangerous –he was an enemy. Dick met that crystal stare, refusing to back down from the obvious challenge.

“You haven’t bitten him.”

“No.” The wolf growled, low and threatening. “Let him go.”

“I’m fine, really.” Tim insisted. “You guys don’t have to fight over me.”

“Why haven’t you bitten him?” And Dick was honestly and truly confused by that. 

“Because Tim asked me not to.”

The afore mentioned Tim wriggled out of the Nightwing’s grasp, placing himself between his lover and his brother. “Everyone just needs to take a deep breath and calm down. Nightwing, I’m fine. No bites. He hasn’t converted me and he’s not going to. Conner…” and he winced at having to use his lover’s name in front of Dick, “…this is my older brother, Nightwing.”

Dick continued to stare at the wolf in confusion. 

“He asked you not to…” He echoed, studying the werewolf’s –Conner’s- defensive stance, reviewing in his mind how he had laid passive because Tim told him to, and only leapt into action when it sounded like Tim was in distress. He studied how Tim had placed himself between the two of them. His little brother using his own body to shield Dick from the wolf, but also to shield the wolf from Dick. He glanced from one to the other, then reached a sobering conclusion. “So… this is love.”

“Yes.” Said Conner, wrapping his arms around Tim. 

“Well, probably.” Admitted Tim, leaning back against his… lover. 

Dick instantly foresaw a problem in their future and it had nothing to do with Bruce finding out. “Tim, can you put some cloths on and wait outside? I want to talk to your, uh, gentleman-friend for a moment.”

The younger man did not move. He glanced between his lover and his older brother skeptically. Probably worrying that if he left them alone together they might start trying to kill one another.

“I promise not to hurt him while you’re gone.” Dick raised one hand in an oath.

Conner scoffed. “You could try.”

Tim shot him a reprimanding look.

“Alright, so long as your brother doesn’t attack me, I won’t do anything either.”

Tim gave them each another skeptical glance. But they had both promised not to harm each other and Dick was in over-protective-annoying-big-brother-mode, so there really wasn’t much he could do except comply. He grabbed his Red Robin uniform from where he’d carefully folded it and began slipping it on. It was a complicated costume on its own, but he deliberately took longer with it, wondering if Dick would grow impatient and start whatever conversation he wanted to have with Conner while Tim was still inside the cave. 

He did not.

Finally, when he was fully dressed, Tim buckled his boots and stomped out of the cave, irritated and in a huff.

An awkward silence settled in his wake. 

Dick and Conner did little more than just study each other for some time. Finally, Dick said, “You wanna put some pants on, or something?”

The wolf crossed his arms over his chest. “You barged in on me and my mate. I see no reason why I should cater to your delicate sensibilities.”

“Fine then!” Dick snapped, sounding a bit more like a petulant child than he’d meant to. After a second prolonged pause he began again, “Conner… Are you Conner Luthor?”

“Yes.” 

Well, that certainly explained why Tim had been unsuccessful in his mission. He went there to kill the heir to the Hunterville werewolf pack and instead became his lover. Complicated. They were like Romeo and… well, Romeo. Or would they be more like Romeo and Tybalt? Now there was a mental image!

“What exactly is going on between you and my baby-brother?” Dick asked bluntly in his best approximation of the Batman-voice.

Conner just gave him a mocking frown. “You mean you didn’t see enough to figure it out when you walked in? I guess Tim must be the smart one in the family.”

He was. Well, the smartest, they were all smart (in their own ways). 

“I know what I saw.” Nightwing growled. “I want you to tell me what YOU think you have between the two of you. What do you expect from my brother?”

“What do I expect from him?” Echoed Conner. “Well, he my mate.”

“And werewolves mate for life.” Dick nodded, that problem he foresaw growing ever more present. “But you haven’t bitten him. You are aware that normal humans are not monogamous?”

“They can be! If they choose to.” The wolf insisted. But Dick could see the fear behind those crystal-blue eyes. Tim was Conner’s mate and werewolves mated for life, he would ALWAYS be Conner’s mate. But humans didn’t mate for life and so Tim might one day grow board with him and leave. Find a new partner. Conner might not always be TIM’S mate.

“Is that what you expect then?” Asked the Nightwing gravely. “You promised not to convert him because he asked you not to, and so you expect him to remain loyal to you for the rest of his life?”

Conner remained silent.

“What would you do if he one day decided to leave you?”

The wolf looked up, crystal eyes blazing. “Tim wouldn’t do that!”

Dick chose not to respond to that remark. He felt no reply was necessary. Conner was lying to himself and they both knew it. It was more than possible that one day Tim would grow tired of their relationship, or someone else would catch his eye and he might stray. He was only human after all. 

After their silence dragged on long enough, Dick said, “Listen, I can’t stop Tim from seeing you. I don’t approve of this, but he’s a grown man and free to make his own decisions. So if he wants to carry on this affair, he’s free to do so and there’s nothing I can do about it. But if you hurt him –in any way- I promise you, you’re dead! I’ve been trained by the goddamn Batman and if you hurt my baby-brother I will kill you.”

“Tim’s my mate. I could never hurt my mate.” Conner insisted.

“I’ll decide what is and isn’t ‘hurting’ Tim.”

The two glared at one another for long moments after that. They remained that way so long that Tim felt the need to come back inside and check on them. He cleared his throat conspicuously, making both men jump.

“If you two are done circling each other and growling…” 

…

On the way home, trudging through the woods in snows that were now knee-deep, Dick waited until they were a reasonable distance away from the cave before he said any word to Tim about what he’d seen.

“I hope you know what you’re doing, baby-bird.” He said.

“I always know what I’m doing, Richard.” The Red Robin shot back, defensive.

“Do you?” Dick pressed. “Bruce is becoming suspicious. He sent me to follow you tonight. You’re lucky he didn’t come himself! If it had been him that walked in on you and the Luthor boy… it would not have ended as civilly as it did. You can’t keep hiding this forever. I don’t think you quite thought this through.”

“Thank you for your concern, but Conner and I are just fine. If all goes according to plan, Bruce won’t have to worry about me at all.”

“And what is THAT supposed to mean?”

Here, Tim hesitated. He hadn’t really planed on telling anyone in the family before hand. He was going to just leave a note saying he met a girl and that they were running away together. No one needed to now that his ‘girl’ was really a boy and that said boy was also a werewolf. And no one need know about it ahead of time lest they try and stop him. But after the sight he saw, Dick was owed an explanation. If Tim wanted him to keep his secret form the rest of the family, then he would have to trust his older brother with the whole truth.

“I’m not going to be living at the manor forever, Richard.” He began. “You moved out, Jason sort of moved out –my turn would have to come up eventually. When I do leave, I’m going with Conner.”

The Nightwing inhaled a deep breath of the frigid winter air and blew it out slowly. “And you’re serious about this?”

“I am.” Tim nodded. “Are you going to try and stop me?”

“No.” Dick shook his head. “You’re not a child anymore. You’re free to make your own mistakes.”

“Conner is not a mistake!”

Dick just shook his head at his little brother’s native. Academically, Tim was the smartest of all Batman’s children. But sometimes, when it came to the ways of the world, he could be an incredible idiot. “Tim, he’s a werewolf! He expects you to stay with him for the rest of your life! What do you think he’s going to do when you wake-up one morning and realize you don’t like him as much as you thought you did? Or what if you meet someone you like more?”

“Not everyone is a man-slut like you, Richard!”

“Excuse you! But I am a perfect gentleman.” Insisted the Nightwing.

“Oh really? Miss Gordon, Huntress, that alienus woman with the fiery hair, or what about that-“

“You are trying to distract from the main issue with a red herring.” Dick cut him off. “You can do whatever you want with your little wolf-boy. I don’t think you’re being smart, but it’s your mistake to make and I have to let you make it. Just… just don’t be afraid to come to me if you need help.”

…

Conner didn’t want to admit it, especially not to himself, but Nightwing’s words worried him. 

What if Tim did grow board of their relationship? What if he became tired of having Conner and only Conner every night? What if he wanted more? If he wanted something or someone else? He was only human after all, and humans were not monogamous by nature. Add that to the fact that their relationship was already strained by the fact that Conner was a werewolf, Tim a werewolf hunter. Yes, Conner had cause to worry.

They had promised each other that so long as Conner didn’t bite him, Tim would stop his hunting. But how long would that last? If Conner never converted his mate into a werewolf, what was to keep him from one day leaving? But if he bit Tim, would he then resume his hunting? A werewolf that hunted other werewolves?

Conner didn’t know.

But it did motivate him in his search to find a place for them to run away to. If he could get Tim away from Nighting, away from the older brother whispering in his ear that he should leave Conner or whatever advice he was sure the older man would be giving him. Some place where it would be just the two of them. Where Conner could shower his mate with all the affection he wanted to give, make Tim delirious with pleasure, and make sure he would never stray. 

But first they needed a place to settle. 

Somewhere far from the colonies. Someplace warm and tropical.

So, he widened his search. Heading farther west. Over the territories owned by Spain and Portugal to the Pacifico discovered by Magellan. He was halfway across the ocean, almost to the orient when he found the island chain. Eight islands, all in a row going from largest to smallest. He landed near the peak the tallest-most mountain on the largest island and found there to be a crate. A volcano. That meant the island might have hot springs. Nice.

The jungles were also nice too. Teeming with life –birds, and insects, and other animals. Conner cut a trail for himself through the foliage, exploring the thick greenery. He came upon a short bush with long waxy leaves and what looked like a comically large pinecone growing out of it. He plucked the ‘pinecone’ from the plant and ripped it open to find bright yellow fruit inside. Tasting it, it was sweeter than apples. It looked like a pinecone, but was sweeter than an apple –a pine-apple. He smiled at his own cleverness. Pineapple. It sounded fun to say.

He continued to explore the island further before moving on to the next one. Conner decided he liked this place. It was warm and tropical. His mate could run along the sandy beaches in naught but his under-clothes (or perhaps nothing at all), the jungles were lush and plentiful. He was still yet to meet the natives, but Conner could find a nice spot to build a Compound and he and Tim could settle here.

It would be nice.

…

The following night was the new moon.

Dick didn’t say anything to Bruce about what he saw. When asked, all he told was that Tim was trying one of his eccentric experiments and it had to be kept far from the manor. Whether or not Bruce actually accepted this answer, he did not say anything. Neither Tim nor Dick gave any outward indication that they were actively trying to hide anything from their Dark Knight. But Bruce also knew that he had trained them so well that of course they wouldn’t have any obvious tells.

One thing that WAS odd, however, was that Dick seemed reluctant to change in front of Tim now. Whatever the Nightwing did or didn’t find out last night, it had made him just a little skittish. He was covering for Tim, but at the same time, whatever it was made him uncomfortable. And considering that it was Dick, that was saying a lot. It was that fact that prompted Bruce to announce.

“New moon, tonight we pair-off.” Jabbing a finger at Red Robin, “You’re with me. Red Hood, you go with Nightwing.”

And if Tim’s cobalt eyes looked startled for a moment as he refused to glance nervously at Dick, Bruce chose not to acknowledge it.

They took the Batman’s main patrol rout. Through the actual city, not around the outskirts. Starting from the roof of the constable’s building and working their way around town in a wide circle, hitting all the high-profile stops. The clock tower, where Miss Gordon lived, Crime Alley, where Bruce’s parents were killed all those years ago, the Wayne family’s main enterprise office…

All the while, Tim preformed as he normally did.

There was no hesitation in his jumps. His swings were all flawless, as per usual. His landings perfect. He saved a washerwoman, late on her way home, from being raped. The two of them together prevented a well-to-do merchant’s shop near the docks from being robed. Overall, Tim’s performance was perfectly fine with nothing out of the ordinary. 

Then they encountered their first wolves of the evening. 

Two of them. Along the banks of the Finger River. The Batman dove right in and took the first one down easily. But Red Robin hesitated. Bruce looked up to see him a dark shadow barely visible against the starlight. He stood staring down at the riverbank in indecision.

“Robin!” Batman snarled up at him.

The second wolf took off running.

“Robin, go after him!”

Tim hesitated another moment. But then Bruce saw him throw his line, swinging off in the same direction as the fleeing werewolf. The question now became, why was he hesitating to do a job that he’d been doing consistently almost from the moment Bruce adopted him?

…

Tim chased down the one that got away. The one Bruce LET get away, more accurately. He was being tested. He had grown suspicious and now Tim was being tested. That’s what this was. It was the only thing it could be. What was going to do? How was he going to play this?

This wouldn’t be self-defense. Conner might forgive him if it was self-defense, but it wasn’t. How could he explain this away?

Did Conner even have to know?

How could Tim hide this from him? With his super-hearing and all those senses tweaked to pay attention to Tim, how could he not know?

But at the same time, they weren’t yet ready to run away together. They didn’t yet have a place they could go to. Tim had to keep up pretences, had to keep Bruce in the dark until they could run away. If the Batman found out about Conner, he could kill the half-wolf easily. Between all his silver weaponry and his Green Stone stockpile… Conner didn’t stand a chance. 

So then, now Tim jut had to decide, how far would he go to protect Conner?

Would he kill for him?

For those passionate crystal eyes that looked at him like he was the only person in the whole world. For that crazy overconfident swagger when he bet he could get Tim to fall in love with him after only three nights. That innocent naïveté when he just showed at Tim’s window when he called his name for the first time…

Yes. Tim would kill to protect him.

His hand was in his belt before Tim even finished the thought. Red Robin withdrew a bolo, swinging the weighted cord over his head to gain force before he released it. The line tangled around the wolf’s ankles and the man went down along the riverbank.

Tim was on him in a moment. His bo-staff in his hands. He brought one end down on one of the man’s hand, to hold him down and keep him from fighting back. The wolf snarled in pain at the pressure and his back began to bend with the first stages of a transformations.

“Don’t shift!” Tim commanded.

“Why?” Growled the wolf. “You’re gonna kill me either way. Might as well go down fighting. Maybe even take you with me.”

Tim brought his foot down hard on the base of the werewolf’s spine. There was a bone chilling CRACK, and then a howl of pain. Even if the wolf did somehow manage to survive this, he would be paralyzed from the waist down for the rest of his life. Needless to say, his transformation was also halted.

He drew a silver-bladded batarang from his belt. “I’m sorry.”

But before Red Robin could finish the kill, another angry roar rent the air. But this one didn’t come from the man at his feet. No. It came out of the very sky itself. Tim barely had time to register before he was picked up and carried away by an angry blur.

…

Conner found the perfect place for them to settle. The natives called it Sawaiki, which from what he could gather meant ‘homeland’. That was fitting. He even found a nice spot to build their Compound on. Far enough inland so as not to be in danger of tidal waves or the worst of tropical storms, but still close enough to the beach that he and Tim could float down to the shore and lay in the sand. 

It was warm and sunny and nothing like the colonies at all. 

Best of all, it was far away from either of their families. 

The wolf was so excited, he flew strait to Gotham to tell his mate the good news. Yes, Tim had told him not to just show up unexpectedly, to wait until he heard his mate call for him. But now that they actually had a place that they could run away to, they didn’t really have to be all that careful, did they? No. Tim was just being paranoid. Which was cute. But if his father found out, so what? They could just run away right then and there. 

Conner was so happy, he was almost humming.

Then, his super-human hearing which was always crooked to listen for Tim, detected a stomach clenching CRACK, followed quickly by an inhuman howl of pain.

His first thought was that something had happened to his mate. That he was attacked and hadn’t called for help. But that howl could not have come from a human throat and Tim was human. Conner hadn’t converted him. That sound could not have come from his mate. Someone near Tim then. A werewolf near his mate, whom was a werewolf hunter… And something that felt suspiciously like the bitter sting of betrayal hit Conner in the stomach.

Tim promised he would stop hunting.

That was the deal. Conner wouldn’t convert him, and Tim wouldn’t hunt.

The wolf swooped down, faster than perhaps he should have considering his mate was only human, certainly faster than Tim had ever seen him move. He scooped his treacherous mate up in his arms and flew them both to their Den. The rock over-hang that conceal the entrance broke with the force, but Conner failed to notice. He zipped through the J shaped cavern to the back and threw Tim down on the bed of furs.

“What the fuck!?” He shouted.

The hunter tried to climb to his feet, staggered and disoriented, but only succeeded in falling back on his ass. He looked up at the wolf, pushing his cowl back from his face, and his cobalt blue eyes cleared a bit.

“Conner?”

“Don’t you ‘Conner’ me!” The wolf snarled down at his mate. “What the fuck were you doing!? We had a deal! That I wouldn’t bite you if you didn’t hunt anymore. That was the agreement! Why the fuck did you go back on the deal!?”

“I was doing it for you!” Tim shouted back. 

The wolf glared down at him skeptically. “Horseshit! I asked you to STOP hunting my kind. In what world could you possibly need to brutalize one of my kind… FOR ME!?”

“Let me explain!” Tim insisted. The hunter looked up at Conner, pleading for him to understand, to just give him an opportunity to explain. “Batman… my father, he was out with me tonight. God! I hope he didn’t see you! But if I didn’t hunt tonight, with him right there, he’d know something was up. He would find out about you. Somehow, he would. He always finds out everything. And Conner… if he found out about you, he’d kill you!”

“You’ve told me all this before!” Snarled the wolf.

“Conner, I was doing this to protect you.” And the hunter’s tone was pleading, almost desperate when he said this. “I will KILL to protect you, if I have to.” Tim rose to his feet and crossed the tiny space between them. Running his hands up his lover’s shoulders to cut the man’s face. “I love you!”

He leaned up to place a passionate kill to Conner’s lips.

…And for the first time, Conner did not kiss back.

He stood there, analyzing. Tim’s warm lips on his. Tim’s hands on his face. Tim’s body pressed against this… A hand slid back down his neck. One traveling down to the small of his back. Pulling him in closer. The other to stroke down his chest. Feeling the muscles ripple beneath the fabric of his clothing. Conner felt himself go hard at the contact. But he still did not kiss back.

Tim pulled away slightly. “Conner, please believe me.”

“Believe you…” He echoed. “When you say you love me? Why shouldn’t you love me? You’re my mate.”

And being only peripherally aware of his actions, Conner pushed Tim down. He fell back onto the pile of unkempt blankets and furs that was their little love-nest. Cobalt eyes blinking up at the wolf, startle and a little confused. He didn’t know if his lover was about to kill him or kiss him and it was wrong that both prospects excited him equally.

Conner dropped to his knees in front of his mate. Hands going to the clasp of his cape.

“Is there a reason I shouldn’t believe that you love me, Tim.” He asked as the cape and cowl fell away. “Because I do believe that you’ll NEVER stop hunting my kind.”

His hands drifted down to the belt. That damn belt, Conner never had figured out quite how to work it, and after a few moments of fighting with the clasp his already razor thin patience wore out and he just went ahead and broke it.

“Conner, I need that!” Tim yelped as the belt and pieces of broken clasp fell away from his hips.

“Not anymore, you don’t.” The wolf insisted. 

Then his hands were working the laces on Tim’s tunic. Pulling the Red Robin uniform open to expose his mate’s scar-marbled chest and abs. He pushed the sleeves over the shoulders and down the arm. His then attention moved to the pants. Unlacing Tim’s trousers and yanking the fabric down to his shins where it bunched above his boots. The boots were unbuckled and jerked off, then the pants were gone.

Tim sat naked but for his socks and gloves.

The hunter gazed at his lover in confusion. Still fully clothed with heat and desire in his eyes, but anger still darkening his brows. “Have you forgiven me?” He asked. “Is this our make-up sex?”

“No.” And Conner unbuckled his own belt. Unlacing his breeches, he eased his erection out from the constricting fabric. “This is your ‘I know I did wrong, please forgive me’ sex.”

Cobalt blue eyes blinked at him as Tim shimmied backwards a bit. “But I haven’t done anything wrong.” He insisted. “I was protecting you!”

“We had a deal!” Conner snarled.

And Tim felt invisible hands grab him by the wrists and ankles and his lover’s tactile telekinesis pulled him back. His legs spread, pulled apart by the tendrils of phantom power. Similar phantom touches whispered across his skin, over his chest to teas his nipples, or caress his ear. It sent shivers down Tim’s spine and he shut his eyes to savor the sensation. Growing embarrassingly hard, embarrassingly fast. …And when one phantom tendril wrapped itself around his stiff and aching cock, he gasped.

“God, Conner!”

Conner spat into his hand, spreading the spit over his own rigid and aching member. Polishing it to wet and slick shine. He eased Tim onto his lap, bracing his knees beneath the smaller man, and pressed himself up into his hole.

“God!” He exclaimed again. Gasping and moaning at the intrusion. “Fuck, Conner!”

“I don’t hear you begging for my forgiveness.” The wolf growled, moving his hips, beginning to thrust upwards into his mate.

Tim braced his legs on either side of his lover and began rocking his own hips, meeting each thrust with his own motions. One hand drifted up to curl around his own straining erection. Jerking quickly, a slight twist to the up-stroke. His leather glove rough against the sensitive foreskin. But phantom hands stopped him quickly, pulling Tim’s hand away from his rock hard cock and shackling him down. His only release would come from Conner.

“I don’t hear you asking to be forgiven.” Said the wolf, his voice hitching ever second syllable from his thrusts. “Say you’re sorry.”

“I- I’m sorry.” Tim gasped out. His own breath sort with need. Desperate for release. “I’m sorry. I did it for you. Please forgive me.”

“That’s better.” Conner cooed. Allowing tendrils of his TTK to wrap themselves around Tim’s dick like he wanted. Stroking gently and slowly. Oh… so… slowly… Agonizingly slow.

Tim whimpered at the teasing touch. It as so close to what he needed but not enough. Not enough. Conner’s hard cock inside him was hitting just right on that spot, there. Right there! And his TTK around his dick felt so good. He was bringing him so close. Close CLOSE! It was right there! Conner kept pushing him to the cusp of climax but refusing to push him over. He wouldn’t let him cum.

“Please…” The hunter muttered.

“Please what?” The wolf crooned. 

“Please, Conner…uh, fuck! Please forgive me… let me cum.”

His lover’s thrusts became more fanatic and hurried, and Tim knew it was more because he was close to his own climax than anything else. But he didn’t care, because it was so close to what he needed. Thrust more. Harder. Faster. Right there. There! Keep hitting that spot. Stroke me faster, please! I need it! Conner!

“You want to cum…” The wolf groaned out and his voice was thick and strained from holding off his own orgasm. “No more than half an hour ago you were beating a werewolf to within an inch of his life, now look at you. Begging to be fucked by one.”

“That’s… ngh, that’s different!” Tim breathed. So close. He was so damn close! “You… You’re my mate…”

“Am I?” The tendrils of TTK drifted down to prod at that spot right behind Tim’s sack. They spread over Tim’s body. Stroking and caressing ever inch of skin. Tickling and teasing the already highly sensitive flesh. “Humans don’t mate for life!”

“I do. I will!” Tim promised. Every inch of his skin burned with desire. He rocked his hips madly, thrusting up into those non-existent hands of tactile telekinetic power, desperate for his release.

If Conner had another angry come-back for that, he didn’t say it. He thrust upwards into Tim’s receptive body. Madly. Unable to hold back his own orgasm anymore. He spilled into his mate, moaning for all the world to hear. Hitting that spot. Right there! Right how Tim needed it and he was only a moment behind. Gasping profanities as his release fountained over his stomach and legs. 

Conner sagged backwards. His weight resting on his hands.

Tim collapsed utterly. Every muscle in his body turning to jelly. His energy completely spent. He would have been content to lie there, naked but for his socks and gloves forever. Eyes closed in contentment. Then he felt Conner lean over him. Tongue lapping up his cum. Licking over his belly and abs. Down his hips and between his thighs. It was a divine feeling, being licked clean after particularly exciting sex and Tim sighed with appreciation.

“I love you.”

Conner paused in his ministrations only long enough to admit, “I don’t actually believe you do.”

Then, he sank his teeth into the sensitive skin of the inside of his mate’s thigh. Ignoring the hunter’s sudden gasp of pain. He held his teeth there until the count of twelve before pulling away and licking the blood from the wound. 

“…But you will.”


	6. The Morning After...

Feverish.

That was how Tim felt.

All hot and shaky. Queasy and faint. Just all around unwell.

He felt hands wrapping gauze around his thigh. Someone was dressing a wound. But he couldn’t remember how he’d injured himself.

He felt so hot…

A cold compress was pressed to his forehead and Tim felt himself sigh at the little bit of relief it offered. He was still hot, but… not as much so…

Gentle fingers stroked down his cheek and traced his jaw line. The touch was… nice. Gentle and affectionate.

“I thought you would have bitten him long before now.”

“Father, if I wanted your commentary, I would have asked for it.”

He heard voices. Tim recognized the words, but he didn’t understand them. He didn’t quite know who was talking or where he was.

But when he cracked his eyes to see his surroundings, his vision was blurred and fuzzy. Like looking at the world in a foggy carnival mirror. Everything was distorted. Shapes unclear. Details blurred.

The hands bandaging his thigh vanished and the familiar weight of woolen blankets was drawn up to his chin. 

It was so unbearably hot!

The towel on his head was removed. Then replaced moments later, fresh and once again cold. 

“Why come here instead of just flying off to your little island?”

“I only just found the place. I can’t care for a new convert while I’m still trying to settle the land.”

Tim thought he knew who was talking. They had a nice voice. Like distant thunder over green hills. Strong and deep. He had a strange, vague feeling that he should be angry with that voice for something, but he couldn’t remember what. …And he sounded so soothing.

Like distant thunder rolling over green hills… 

Distant… rolling…

…

Tim’s dreams were strange. 

Of crystal-blue eyes and sharp teeth.

Sharp white teeth, stained red. Red dripping from full kissable lips.

Why all the red?

‘…But you will. You’re mine, Tim. Forever and always.’

Of rushing air and searing moonlight.

Of the tops of clouds. Like a sea of silver cotton. And more moonlight reflected off them.

Of being surrounded by moonlight. Wrapped in it. Steeped in it. It pierced his skin. Seeped into his pores. Promised freedom and power. Wild and ancient –like the wild wolves of legend.

But all it gave was sickness and fever.

Heat.

So much heat.

Crystal-blue eyes and the tops of clouds.

Red-stained white teeth and searing moonlight.

He was so hot.

The promise of power. 

Wild and ancient.

Red-stained teeth.

The tops of clouds.

Crystal eyes.

Sharp teeth. Tim’s teeth hurt. Like when his wisdom teeth had started coming in, but worse.

Searing moonlight.

The promise of power.

And blue eyes. Bluer than crystal. Bluer than the light of the moon.

‘You’re mine, Tim. Always and forever.’

…

When his fever finally broke and coherent thoughts were able to enter his mind again, Tim awoke to the scent of… well, everything!

Sweat soaked wool. His sweat.

Seeder wood and lacquer. Pine and oak and teak. Oil burning from a lamp. Paper and leather from books. Glass. He didn’t know glass had a scent. 

There was so much of it. So many new scents! Or familiar scents that were suddenly so much stronger! So much was new. So much was stronger. It was over-powering!

Tim buried his head under his pillow, trying to breath through his mouth. The pillows were stuffed with goose feathers and each intake of breather gave him visions of pale, supple goose flesh, firm but tender, sweet, sweet meat…

And the sounds!

Voices far away. Outside, maybe? And footsteps on hardwood floors. The door to his room opened and shut. Footsteps approaching his bed. 

And then another scent slithered under his pillow to tempt his senses. Male. Something more than human and slightly more than werewolf. Of newly tempered steel and cotton… and starlight. That was an odd idea, starlight having a scent. But it was utterly tantalizing.

A strong hand was placed on his shoulder, stroking his back, offering comfort. The hand drifted upwards to lift the pillow from his head. A strand of sweat-soaked hair was brushed back behind his ear and Tim got another, stronger, whiff of that intoxicating scent.

Steel and starlight… and cotton. Younger than Tim expected, but still with a healthy male musk that was exhilarating and arousing. 

Tim leaned into that hand. Savoring the scent. His eyes traced the fingers, thick and sinewy. He studied the palm, smooth and perfect, without a single blister or callus. Up to a strong, thick wrist. He was annoyed to find that the rest of that tantalizing arm was concealed beneath the sleeve of a shirt. Tim growled in frustration. A deep feral growl. He’d never heard his throat make that sound before. He didn’t think his throat could.

“Tim…?”

He looked up at the sound of that voice. Like distant thunder rolling over green hills. Warm crystal eyes gazed down at him. The shirt’s collar was slightly parted just below the neck and it teased him with a view of supple olive skin. Perfect unblemished skin. With muscles rippling underneath. Tim leaned up. Resting his face just inside the juncture between shoulder and neck. The scent was stronger here. Steel and stars… and fabulous!

Tim bit down at the spot. New, still tender, teeth pinching the perfect unmarked flesh. But he couldn’t penetrate the skin. He bit, and nipped, and pinched, and chomped as much and as hard as he could, but he just couldn’t break that impenetrable skin. Releasing another growl of frustration, Tim shifted his attention downwards; training little nips and bites down to that open V of exposed chest.

He pulled and tugged at the shirt-collar. Glaring up at those unearthly blue eyes, he growled, “This is in the way. Take it off.”

“I’m glad you’re awake.” The shirt was pulled up over his head, revealing toned, perfectly sculpted muscles. Chiseled pectorals and sharply defined abs. Swimmer lines making an almost perfect V leading down to disappear beneath the waistband of his breeches.

Tim was all over that chest before the shirt was even all the way off. Inhaling deeply. Taking it all in. Memorizing that scent. Steel and stars. He bit and nipped his way down the torso, drifting over the rippling pecs and toned abs. Down… down… to where he was once again blocked by clothing. 

Evil clothing!

It was in the way!

Those crystal eyes fluttered closed, savoring the sensation of Tim’s lips and teeth on him. He released soft sighs and moans of appreciation. Hands fisting in his mate’s hair. Fingers massaging the scalp. Cock straining against the fabric of his breeches, tenting his pants.

Tim hooked his hands under the waistband of his breeches and pulled him onto the bed. Pinning him on his back, tugging at the lacings of his pants, pulling them down.

His thick hard member bobbed out of cotton prison, smelling musky, and pungent, and divine. Steel and stars… and sex. Tim liked it. Tim wanted it. He closed his mouth around the head, lapping up the bead of pre-cum there and sucked with appreciation. It throbbed inside his mouth and Tim lowered himself down on it further, sucking and sucking, lower and lower. Until he felt it press against the back of his throat. Then he lifted himself back up.

Down and down, and sucking and sucking. Then back up again. Down and down, and sucking and sucking.

“God, Tim! I love you!” He gasped.

And Tim believed him. Knew it was true. In every fiber of his being. Those crystal eyes that looked at him like he was the only person in the world. Those strong hands that stroked and caressed him like every inch of his scar-marred skin was fine oriental silk. Tim wanted him. Wanted all of him. Those crystal eyes, those strong hands, this immaculate body…

The next time he lifted his mouth, he came all the way up –off the rigid cock, with a wet smack of lips and saliva. He slithered both hands beneath his lover and attempted to turn the man over on his belly. 

“What are you…?” It was more of a sigh than a question.

“I want you.” Tim growled, his throat once again making an unfamiliar and inhuman sound. Wild and feral. A deep rolling growl.

“Oh.” And he flipped over for Tim.

All that smooth flesh. Clean and clear and unblemished. Not a single freckle or scar to mar the perfect olive complexion. All toned and muscled. Perfectly sculpted. Tim ran his hands over the tight muscles of his lover’s ass, feeling how nice and firm it was. Smooth and perfect. He spread the cheeks to get a clear view of his hole, nice and tight.

Tim spat in his hand, spreading the wet saliva over his fingers, making them slick and slippery. Pressing one into that tight little hole and smiling at the way his lover groaned and arched at the sensation. He leaned over the larger man, nipping and licking at the smooth olive skin of his back. He wished his nips and love-bites could leave marks. He wanted to mark this perfect unblemished skin. A visual declaration to the whole world, ‘THIS IS MINE! HE BELONGS TO ME!’

Tim slipped in a second finger. Stretching the tight tissue of his hole. Scissoring his fingers. Opening him up. Curling his fingers, stroking him from the inside. Making him moan, and sigh, and keen. Finally he couldn’t hold himself back any longer. Tim pulled his fingers out, gripping muscular hips and pulling Conner back against his pelvis. Pressing himself inside. 

He was hot, and wet, and tight. So tight. It was fabulous. Keening and mewling beneath him. Sighing and moaning. Groaning with every inch Tim pressed in further. All around them wafted their mingled scents. Steel and stars. Sandalwood and spice. And sex. 

Tim knew the name of this scent now. Steel and stars. This scent was ‘mate’. And he was Tim’s. All Tim’s. Tim’s mate. ‘Mine!’

Every thrust was punctuated by that one word. ‘Mine! Mine! Mine!’ 

Beneath Tim, his mate moaned to the rhythm. Begging him to go faster, thrust harder. “It’s okay, you can be rough. I can take it! Fuck me!”

And Tim did. Ramming his cock in as deep as he would go. Thrusting as hard as he could. Hitting that spot just behind his mate’s prostate. Making him moan and scream and praise his sexual prowess. He was so good. Oh, yes! Fuck, Tim, fuck! Grinding his ass back against Tim’s pelvis desperate for release.

“Mine! Mine! Mine!” And Tim didn’t realize he was chanting aloud, until his was cumming. The sound being cut short when his breath caught in his chest and he moaned with the force of his orgasm as his climax ripped through his body.

He collapsed over his mate. Breathing hard. Inhaling that intoxicating aroma of steel, and stars, and sex. He laid over that smooth back of perfect skin and whispered, “You’re mine, Conner.”

“And you’re mine.” His mate whispered back. “Get off, I wanna hug you.”

Tim rolled off him. Exhausted and thankful for the soft feather mattress. So much more comfortable than the stone floor of their little love-Den. This wasn’t his bed at Wayne manor. Where were they?

Conner wrapped his arms around him. “I’m glad your fever finally broke.”

Tim cuddled up closer to his mate. Snuggling into the crook of his arm, nuzzling at his chest and neck. Steel, and stars, and perspiration. “I had weird dreams.”

“I’m told people often do.”

“How long was I out?”

“A few days.”

“That explains why I’m so hungry.” Tim muttered into his mate’s chest.

Conner pulled away, rolling out of bed. Tim whimpered in protest.

“I’ll get you something to eat.”

Conner returned not long after, carrying a tray laden with meat. Tim was suddenly ravenous. He attacked the food before Conner had even finished placing it down in front of him. 

Meat! Glorious meat! Fresh, and rare, and juicy. Tim tore through it. Ripping flesh from bones and savoring every juicy bite. Sauce dripping down his chin and hands. He ploughed through two rabbits and a pheasant. But it wasn’t until he was sucking the marrow from the bones that he realized the meat he was eating wasn’t rare. It was raw! Raw meat. The sauce dripping down his face and hands wasn’t sauce, it was blood. Fresh blood. Raw meat. 

He dropped the bone he held and stared at his bloody hands. “What… What am I doing?”

Conner froze. Staring at him rather like a startled dear caught in a hunter’s sights. “You’ll only be craving raw meat for a few days. Then you’ll go back to-“

“What the fuck did you do to me!?” He shouted. 

Instead of waiting for an answer, Tim pushed the tray of bloody bones to the foot of the bed and threw the blankets off himself, smearing blood all over the woolen sheets. There. On his leg. He had a vague memory of a sharp pain lancing through the inside of his thigh and hands bandaging his leg during his fever-induced delirium. Him looked down at the bandage high on his thigh, a tiny brown bloodstain bleeding through on the inside of his leg. He began frantically unwrapping the gauze. 

“Tim, don’t- !”

There. Under the bandage. Teeth marks perforating his skin. There was a distinct ungle pattern to them –human dentition. But the wound itself was to jagged to have been made by flat human teeth. Werewolf bite.

“You bit me!” Tim snarled. “You son of a bitch!”

…

When Tim didn’t come home with Bruce, Dick was worried. But he lied to himself and said it was nothing. Tim was a big boy and had been trained by the best. He could take care of himself. 

But when the morning turned to day, and the day turned to another night, Dick’s concern returned. Tim should have returned by then. If not returned then at least gotten a message to them somehow. Something to give at least some sort of explanation for his absence. 

He said he was going to run away with Conner Luthor. Was that what this was? Bruce has grown suspicious of him, so Tim stepped up his plans and ran away with the Luthor boy the very next night?

But none of his clothes or books were missing and if Tim had run away from home, he would have taken at least one spare change of clothes and a book with him. Tim always had a book with him! If not one to read, then one to write in. Make notes. His field journal.

When Dick inconspicuously searched his baby-brother’s room that second night, he found Tim field journal out on his desk. Innocent. Exposed. Tim would not have left without that. At least, not unless he was kidnapped or otherwise removed under duress. Dick took the journal. He didn’t know what Tim might have written in it about Conner (and, quite frankly, after what he’s seen, he was a little to scared to read and find out), but no matter what it was, the Nighting was sure Tim wouldn’t want the Batman finding out. So, he took the journal and hid it in his own room.

The third night that Tim did not return, Bruce sent them all out to search for him. Each taking a different rout, starting from the Finger River, from the spot on the bank were Batman had found the paralyzed but still living werewolf Tim failed to kill. Dick followed his assigned search rout only as far as the point where they were all out of sight of one another. Then he made a strait B-line for the cave. Tim’s little love-Den with the Luthor boy.

The stone over-hang that partially concealed the cave entrance was broken and that did not bode well. A small stone of dread sank into Dick’s stomach as he entered the cave, making his way to the dead-end of the J shaped cavern. He lit the oil lamp with flint and steel from his belt and raised the lamp high over his head to cast its light into every corner of the cave. 

The bed of furs was messy and tossed. But the disturbance was old. A couple days, maybe. Around the same time Tim disappeared. That in and of itself was worrisome. But the most disturbing thing was the clothing… and the belt. 

Tim’s belt. His utility belt. Never ever, ever, ever, go anywhere without your belt! Bruce drilled it into them, into all of them, from the knee. Your belt is your life. Never leave home without your belt. Don’t go anywhere without your belt. Stick to your belt. Love your belt and it will save your life. 

Dick set the lamp on stone it usually rested on and picked up the belt, examining the broken clasp. Broken. Not simply released. Meaning Tim had not taken it off of his own volition. It had been forcibly removed. 

Pieces of the Red Robin uniform were also strewn about the cave. The cape and cowl crumpled in with the bed of furs. The tunic on one side of the cave, the pants another. The boots thrown carelessly. Everything spread out and messy. Tim was not messy. Tim folded his clothes carefully when he removed them. Tim had not been the one to remove his uniform.

A picture was forming in Dick’s mind and he did not like it.

He told the Luthor boy that if he ever did anything to hurt his little baby-bird that he’d kill him. It looked like the Nightwing was going to have to make good on that promise. 

…

Conner ducked to dodge the tray that came sailing through the air, aimed at his head. 

“Tim, calm down.” He said. “You have no reason to be mad at me.”

“No reason to be mad at you!” His mate snarled back. He crawled naked out of bed, eyes darting around the room for a weapon. Something more practical than a dinning tray. “You gave me your curse! You turned me into a monster! Don’t you dare tell me I have nothing to be upset about!”

“We had a deal!” Conner snarled back. His standard instinct to confront an aggressor, battling with his instinct to comfort his distressed mate. In the end, his conflicting compulsions compromised by simply erecting a TK field around himself to protect his body from whatever Tim chose to throw at him next. “We had a deal and you broke it. I wouldn’t convert you if you stopped hunting my kind. You didn’t hold-up your end of the bargain!”

Tim seized a pewter candlestick. The weight and balance were off to make it a good throwing weapon, but it was to short to be a decent meele weapon for his fighting style. So he threw it anyway. It bounced off Conner’s invisible TK shield and clattered impotently to the floor. “I was PROTECTING you, you son of a bitch! Trying to keep my father from finding out about us!”

“So you keep saying!” Conner shouted.

“Because it’s the truth!”

Tim paused to just glare at his mate. So angry he felt short of breath. Conflicting instincts battling within him. Enemy. Mate. Kill. Kiss. Pin him to the floor and beat his face in. Pin him to the bed and let him fuck his face.

“Tim, I knew you’d mad. But this is really a good thing.” Conner insisted, taking one cautious step towards his angry and distraught mate. “You’re just like me now. We can be together forever. I found a place. It’s an island in the Pacifico. You’ll love it there. Now that you’re recovered, I can take us there today. Right now, if you want.”

“I’M NOT GOING ANYWHERE WITH YOU!” Tim roared.

Conner froze. Of all the angry ways he imagined Tim to react when he finally came back to himself, that had not been one of them. They were mates. Good and truly mated now. Permanently. Forever. Tim could never and would never be attracted to anyone but Conner. He knew the former hunter would be mad, but he never imagined he would refuse to run away together.

For the first time in their relationship, Conner had no idea what to do. 

“I’m not going anywhere with you.” Tim repeated, more controlled this time. “You betrayed my trust. Turned me against my will. I…” He was about to say ‘I can’t be with you anymore.’ He tired to say it. But the words just wouldn’t come out. So, instead, he asked, “Where are we?”

“My room.” Conner replied, glad to at least no longer be arguing. Nothing had been settled, but he was still happy for the break from the shouting. “In my father’s house in Hunterville.”

“How long has it been?”

“You were ill for about three days.” Conner supplied. “Its now a waxing moon.”

Three days. Tim sank back down on the bed, putting his hands to his head. Three days. He had been missing from Gotham for three days. He hadn’t returned to the manor in three days. The last Bruce saw him, he was chasing down an escaped wolf –then he was just gone, and had been missing for three days. What did Bruce think? He knew that Dick knew about them, did would probably put two and two together and come up with a correct conclusion. Would he tell Bruce? 

It was mid-winter. The passes were closed. There was no travel between Gotham and Hunterville (unless you could fly). Even if Dick did tell what he knew, what could Bruce do? He couldn’t do anything until spring. 

And that was both a comfort and a concern. 

If the passes were closed and there was no travel until spring. That did mean that Bruce wouldn’t be taking any action until spring. But it also meant that Tim couldn’t do anything until spring. Regardless of what he chose to do, Tim was trapped in Hunterville until the end of the season.

On the other hand, since Conner had whisked him away without the chance to prepare. The extra time did give Tim time to get a few things together. Like money and travel necessities. And a plan. He couldn’t go home. Not anymore. But he was so angry, he didn’t know if he could stay with Conner anymore. 

He needed to go out. Feel out the town. Gauge his options. “Where are my clothes?”

“Uh… back at the Den.”

…

Statistically, if a person isn’t found within the first 48 hours of being missing, then chances of finding them alive are slim to none and searchers should shift their paradigm from searching for a person, to searching for a body.

That was true, statistically. But in the case, Dick didn’t believe it. Conner Luthor was a werewolf and werewolves mated for life. Tim was his mate to no matter what he might have done to him, he was not dead. Of that fact, at least, Dick could be sure. The strewn clothing and broken belt he found at their love-Den indicated a rape. But the other indicators of non-consensual sex, signs of a struggle, or blood on the blankets, were in absence. And that left Dick confused.

One thing he was sure of, they were not going to find either of them in the city. 

He, Bruce and Jason had already searched the whole island. Bruce even went so far as to ask Huntress, Miss Gordon, and a few of the city’s other capes to keep an eye out for Red Robin. Thus far, no one had found anything.

So then, if they weren’t in Gotham, how in the world did they leave? It was the dead of winter. Were they both sitting frozen to death in a drift somewhere? Not likely. Tim was to smart to allow that to happen (assuming he had been conscious at the time). And Conner probably wouldn’t do anything that would endanger his mate. So then, how did they get off the island?

Maybe Tim’s field journal might hold some answers. But Dick was wary of reading it. He was afraid of finding graphic details of there sex-life in there and he did NOT want to be reminded of seeing his baby-brother like that. Not little baby Timmy. 

What a way to spend the winter holidays… 

Scouring the streets of Gotham for a brother he knew wouldn’t be found and hiding what he already knew from the rest of the family. 

Not a happy Christmas. Not a happy Christmas at all.


	7. Bedside Pineapple

The snow was falling fast and tick. So thick that it was near impossible to see more than three feet in any given direction. This was made all the worse by the fierce wind whipping and churning the snow in almost ever direction but down. It was the kind of windy winter night that threatened storms and blizzards. The kind a person didn’t want to be caught outside in.

Luckily for the Gotham elite, they were not outside. Most of the upper echelons of Gotham society were attending a Christmas ball at Wayne Manor.

“Dreadful weather we’re having.” Commented Salina Kyle, a coy smile stretching over red-painted lips. “I might have to board here overnight until the storm passes.”

Bruce Wayne, in keeping with the foppish persona he portrayed to the rest of society gave an empty-headed and flippant response in return. But when their eyes met something entirely different was communicated between them. He gazed down at Miss Kyle from their height difference of six inches, an almost predatory smile on his lips, looking rather like a bat ready to swoop down on its prey. While Miss Kyle, eyes wide, taking in every detail of his face, more closely resembled a cat ready to pounce. 

The messages were clear. They both intended to spend the night together. Whether that night was spent in a bedchamber or in a sparring circle was yet to be decided.

Across the ballroom, Dick and Jason leaned against the far wall. Observing the soiree, but not taking part. 

“Nine pence says they end up in the bedroom before the party’s even over.” Jason muttered.

“I only bet with my life, never my money.” Dick replied absentmindedly. He was thinking about the younger brother that was in absence. 

The official story to explain the absence of Timothy Wayne was a serious illness brought on by the winter chill. Tim’s public person was that of a quiet, studious young man, that spent far to much time buried in a book and far to little time in the outdoors. It was easy for people to believe then that he would have a weak constitution and when the weather turned beastly (ironic choice of words) he would fall ill. 

Then Miss Gordon rolled past his vision and Tim was pushed momentarily from his mind. Dick left his position as wallflower to follow the brilliant redhead to the buffet table. Barbara had once been a hunter like them. She operated under the alias of ‘Batgirl’. But that was before she’d been paralyzed from the waist down. Now she was confined to sitting and sewing like every respectable woman of breeding was expected. Or, at least, that was the public image she projected. Her ability to run, jump, climb trees, and swing from building to building might have been robbed from her, but Barbara Gordon was anything but a meek young woman who sat with her embroidery all day.

Now she was the secret center of information within the city –probably of the whole island, actually. She might not be as able to go and meet with informants in narrow allies like she used to. But Barbara always made sure she knew what was going on. When any member of the bat-clan needed information, they went to her. She was rather like an Oracle out of Greek myth. 

“Miss Gordon,” Dick opened with a cordial bow because they were in public and it was what was expected of a gentleman of his station. “Might I help you with that?”

“Oh. Thank you, Richard.” And she passed her plat to him to fill it for her. Not because she actually needed the help by any stretch of the imagination, but because they were in public and that was what was expected of a lady of her circumstance. “How fairs your brother?”

“No change.” And he tried his best not to sound grim and anxious. As far as the people around them were concerned, Timothy Wayne was upstairs with a cold, not missing, last seen in the presence of werewolves.

“I’m sorry to hear that.” She already knew that. “But if nothing for him can be found on the island, perhaps Mr. Wayne might try asking his friend from out of town?”

It took Dick a moment to decipher that. Bruce didn’t have anyone visiting from out of town. And with the roads and ferries closed until the spring thaw, there wouldn’t be anyone traveling to or from Gotham any time soon. Unless they could fly, that is. And then Dick got it. Kal-El! He usually showed up on Christmas morning with a gift basket for the family. 

Suddenly, all the pieces fell into place. Kal-El lived in Hunterville. Conner Luthor was from Hunterville. Tim planned to run away with the Luthor boy and since no trace of them could be found on the island, it was safe to assume they went to Hunterville. (How they got there was another question, but Dick could ponder that later.) All he had to do to find his baby brother now, was just ask Kal-El to give his hometown a search and report back. 

“Miss Gordon, you are a stunningly brilliant woman!”

It was an amazing talent of hers to be able to blush on command. She already knew how brilliant she was, it didn't need to be said. “Oh, you flatter me.”

“The weather outside is dreadful.” Dick continued, trying not to grin like a fool. “If you wish, you may board here for the night. Miss Kyle has also expressed a wish to stay until the storm passes.”

This time her blush was real. 

…

The gathering at the Luthor mansion was small. Intimate, really. Just members of the Pack. Mercy and Happersen were immersed in what appeared to be a highly animated debate over the price of tea in China and how it related to Luthor’s latest acquisition of shipping rights in Singapore. Casey Griggs and his mate, Elaine, were telling Lex about their summer in Massachusetts and how lovely the Bay Area was. 

Conner wasn’t paying attention. Not really. He was listening because he could and father taught him to always be aware of his surroundings. But his thoughts were elsewhere. Two floors up and in a completely different wing of the house. Tim refused to accompany him and meet the rest of the Pack. 

On the one hand, it did make a little sense. Conner still hoped that his mate would come to his senses and they would run away to his island together. When that happened, there would be no point to Tim meeting the and being integrated into this Pack, they would start one of their own. But Conner knew that wasn’t the reason Tim refused to come down. He meant it to punish Conner and that stung. 

The half-wolf leaned against a window frame, starring at the snowy gale outside. His enhanced vision piercing the white vale to the woods beyond. If he couldn’t be with Tim tonight, then he would have much rather been out there. Flying through the violent weather might help him channel some of the frustration he felt.

Elaine broke away from his father and Griggs, drifting over to him, far from everyone else, sulking by the window.

“I bet I can guess why you’re so grumpy tonight.” She smiled warmly at him. It was the kind of smile that might look at home on the face of a doting grandmother, or wise older sister. 

“Oh?” He asked. Besides Tim and Conner themselves, the only one that knew of their ‘marital strife’ was Lex. And him only because it was impossible for Conner to hide anything from his father.

“I heard you finally got a mate and you only just recently converted him.” She supplied. “You don’t wanna be down here with us old farts. You want to be up-stairs holding his hand while his body adjusts to the change.”

Right. That was the official story his father told the rest of the Pack to explain his absence. Tim’s body had already adjusted to the change, his fever already broken. (Much quicker than Conner had expected in all honesty.) It was Tim himself that was having trouble adjusting. Making the paradigm shift from werewolf-hunter to werewolf himself. From one kind of predator to another. That, and he was still angry with Conner for converting him in the first place. 

“You’ve said your requisite hellos to everyone.” Continued Elaine. “Go to him.” 

“Father will be mad.” Replied the half-wolf, thinking more of how mad Tim would be if he invited himself into the spare bedroom he’d claimed for himself (since he refused to share a room –never mind a bed- with Conner).

“Oh, he’s always angry. Nothing’s going to change that.” She waved off his concerns matter-of-factly. “Go upstairs.” 

…

One full push-up. All the way up. All the way down. 

Followed by a half. Half-way up. Hold it. Hold it… Then back down.

Another full push-up. All the way up. All the way down.

Then another half. Hold it. Hold it…

Tim had been at it for a good hour now and hadn’t broken a sweat. He should be sweating by this point. Before he was bitten, he would be feeling the burn in his muscles. His lungs would feel the strain of supplying his body with oxygen. Sweat would be dripping down his nose. 

But not now.

Werewolves had enhanced strength and endurance. He had hoped to test the limits of that endurance with these simple exercises, but it had been an hour now and still a limit hadn’t been found and Tim was wanting to do something else. 

Reconnaissance, maybe? It had been three years since any hunter had set foot within Hunterville city limits. 

He cast a glance at the new suit Luthor’s tailors had made for him. Black breeches and coat, a waistcoat of a vivid crimson, almost the same shade of red as his Red Robin costume (Conner had probably picked out the fabric) and a new cotton shirt. He thought about the party going on down-stairs. Every member of the Hunterville Pack in one room together. He could memorize all their names and faces and… And what? Report back to Bruce? He couldn’t go home now. He had become the very thing they hunted.

Tim gave up his exercises and crossed the room to where the suit was laid out in the bed. Should he put it on and go down-stairs? Introduce himself as Conner’s mate and be integrated into the Pack? 

No. He didn’t want that.

He didn’t want to be counted among Luthor’s underlings. 

Then his only option was to run away with Conner. Go to that island in the Pacifico he mentioned. If he was going to be honest with himself, Tim did like the idea. Lying on a tropical beach with a bare chested Conner did sound very appealing. And just the mental image of Conner lying in the sand, the sun on his exposed skin and the waves lapped at his feet made Tim hard. Suddenly, he wanted to go downstairs, not to meet the rest of the Pack, but just to see his mate. To touch his hand, lean in to kiss him, and whisper his undying love for the man.

But no, no, no! 

He did NOT love Conner! Tim had to forcefully remind himself. Conner betrayed his trust. Seduced him. Clouded his mind with sex. Caused him to lower his defenses and while he was in basking in a post-coitus fog, bit him. Passed the werewolf curse to him. Made him a monster. All so he could keep Tim with him for the rest of his life. It was selfish. Tim did NOT love him. It was just part of the werewolf’s curse. Conner was the first person he had sex with after being bitten, so Conner would be the only person he’d ever be attracted to for the rest of his life. 

A knock at his door pulled Tim from his thoughts and the scent of meat fill his nostrils. Fresh meat. Raw meat. Damn, he was hungry! 

Conner said this craving for raw meat would go away eventually, and Tim had to believe him because he’d seen other werewolves eating normal, decent food. But right now, at that moment, with the scent of fresh and bloody kills wafting through the door, Tim was amazed he wasn’t wrenching the door open to maul whoever was outside. In fact, he was half way to the door (possibly to do just that) when he registered the scent of the person whom came bearing the meat. 

Young. Male. Steel and stars. 

Conner.

If Tim was hungry before, he was positively ravenous now. His head filled with visions of his mate standing in the corridor outside holding a tray of bloody steak, and only because t was a fantasy, he was completely naked. Tim would grab his wrist. Pull him inside and slam the door behind them. Push him down on the bed. Share the feast he brought between them. Lick the blood off each other’s naked bodies… 

God he was horny!

Why was that door still closed again?

Oh, right! He was mad at Conner. He did not reward people he was mad at with kinky food-sex. (No matter how tempting the idea was.) He had more self-control than that. He would not give into his base desire. Then, Conner spoke, voice drifting through the wood. Sounding apologetic, and unsure, and sexy.

“Tim…?” He said. “Are you still mad at me? I brought you dinner. Will you open the door?”

God yes! Hell no! Damn it all to heck! Tim didn’t move. 

“Are you still not talking to me?” His mate continued. “I’m sorry, okay? I thought it was the best thing for us. Look, would you just open the door?”

Tim’s hand was halfway to the knob before he forcibly reminded himself ‘NO!’ If he opened the door, then he and Conner would just end-up having sex and while that did sound very appealing that wasn’t what Tim needed right now. What he needed was time and space to collect his thoughts, learn the extent of his new werewolf abilities, and come up with a plan. His anger with Conner aside, Tim just couldn’t think clearly with his mate around. It was very difficult to try and come up with a plan when all his mind could do was conjure up images of himself licking the half-wolf’s chest, sucking his nipples, or his cock…

“Alright. You clearly want your space. I could just break this door down, and you that’s true. But I’m not going to, okay. I’m gonna respect your insane desire for privacy. But we can’t keep not-talking forever. Eventually, we’re gonna need to sit down together. I’m gonna leave your dinner out here. It’s raw, so be sure you eat it before it spoils. Okay?”

There was a pause in which Tim said nothing. Then a sigh and Conner’s footsteps disappearing down the hall. 

Tim waited to the count of ten after the footfalls fell silent before opening the door slowly. He spotted the dinner tray laden with cuts of meat instantly. Pressed against the wall beside his door, out of the way of passing traffic, but within reach. He pulled the tray inside and slammed the door shut again. 

He sat on the floor with the tray, ignoring the knife and fork provided, and ripping directly into the meat with just hands and teeth. Ham this time. Probably pieces of whatever holiday ham was being served downstairs, just not cooked. Tender and fatty. It was delicious. No bones this time. No marrow to suck out, or bones to gnaw on. God, he gnawed on bones now! Like a fucking animal! And it was all Conner’s fault! He even licked the plate clean. Like a dog.

It was shameful.

Tim whipped his mouth on the napkin next to the plate and leaned back on the heels of his hands. He sucked on his teeth, running his tongue over his top pallet, feeling the new sharp teeth and extended canines. New teeth. Non-human teeth. Werewolf teeth. How obvious where they? If he were to go home, would Bruce be able to tell he was converted just by looking at him?

Maybe.

The former hunter picked up his unused knife. Holding it up to his face, examining his new teeth in its highly polished surface. White and strait. The front pallet was sharp, but it was subtle, a person wouldn’t be able to tell unless they were looking for it. The extension of his canines was also subtle. They weren’t much longer than they had been before, but they were more pointed, and slightly curved. Again, subtle. A person wouldn’t see it unless they were looking for it. 

Or if they were hyper observant. 

Like Bruce. 

Bruce would know. Just by looking at him, Bruce would know. The moment Tim opened his mouth to say ‘I’m home.’, Bruce would see his teeth and know he was bitten. He was a werewolf. He wasn’t one of them anymore. 

Tim tossed his mirror-knife back onto the plate with a loud clatter. Damn it all to hell. He was good and truly stuck now. What were his options?

He was a werewolf now, so he couldn’t go home. He could run away with Conner, as was the original plan. But did he still want to do that now? He could stay here in Hunterville and join Lex’s Pack. But he wanted to do that even less than he wanted to run away with Conner. He could go somewhere else. 

Once the snows melted. He could leave Hunterville. Not return to Gotham, but go somewhere else. Maybe one of the other Colonies? Do the whole ‘lone wolf’ bit. But then, he wouldn’t be alone, would he. No matter what he did, Conner would try to follow him. With his crystal-eyes that looked at him like he was the only person in the world. That remorseful little pout on those full kissable lips. Begging to be forgiven. Pleading for Tim to take him back…

Tim didn’t like any of his options.

But no matter what he did, there was one thing Tim was sure of. He needed to gain a better understanding of his new werewolf abilities. His new strength. His extended endurance. …And shape shifting. He would need someone to teach him how to shift between wolf and human form. 

…

Like clock-work, Kal-El came by the mansion early Christmas morning, like he does every year. Dick came down to find the tree surrounded by a swarm of presents and Bruce and Kal sitting in arms chairs sipping cider. Bruce, still in his bedclothes, a black robe thrown casually over his shoulders. Kal-El in his usual bright red short-pants over blue stockings, yellow belt, blue waistcoat and in place of a coat, a bright red cape. They were laughing at some private joke and Dick knew instantly that Bruce hadn’t told him about Tim and had no intention to. The damn bat-instinct to hoard secrets at work, it seemed. 

Dick flopped down in the chair next to Kal and waited for the older men to acknowledge him. 

Kal finished whatever anecdote he was telling and Bruce gave the requisite grunt that was as close to a laugh as he ever got when he wasn’t pretending to be an empty-headed fop. It was then that the alienus turned his attention to Dick (his biggest fan).

Well, not really. Dick hadn’t been quite as star-struck with Kal-El as he had been in his youth. Some days he would just stop and say ‘Oh my god! I’m friends with the super-man!’ But those moments became fewer and farther between as he grew up. Now Kal was just another man. One of his father’s friends and colleagues. One of his friends too.

“And how about you, Richard, how’ve you been?”

Dick paused for a moment, wondering how he should answer. If he should bring up the subject of Tim right away or if he should wait. Bruce obviously hadn’t told him that Tim was missing, or else the atmosphere would have been much more tense when he entered. And if Bruce wasn’t planning on telling him, then he wouldn’t like it to much if Dick brought up the subject right in front of him. Dick hated going behind his mentor and father’s back, but sometimes Bruce made it the only option. No wonder Tim had planned to run away secretly. 

‘Secretly’. Jeez, what if that was all this was? Tim just ran away with his lover, like he said he would and he was worrying over nothing. But no. It wasn’t just nothing. If Tim had left on his own, he would have taken at least a few things from his bedroom. His journal at least! And he wouldn’t have left his Red Robin uniform strewn so carelessly over their cave floor. Not to mention the belt. Someone had broken his belt and that indicated violence –and possibly rape. So, no. Dick couldn’t believe that Tim had just run away with his lover like he said he would. Something else was at work here.

He still hadn’t answered Kal-El and now both men were starring at him. 

“I’m fine.” Dick assured them both. “Just preoccupied with a case is all. I’m happy to be home for the holidays. Bludhaven just isn’t the same as Gotham.”

Kal-El was probably about to ask him about the case he was preoccupied with, but Jason came sliding down the banister then. He muttered a few short good mornings to the family and their guest before his eyes fixed on the presents around the tree. “Swag!”

There then followed an hour of opening presents, thanking those present for what they’d given and, in the case of Dick and Jason, mocking each other’s gifts. 

Then, Kal-El asked, “Where’s Tim?”

And the room became suddenly silent.

…

It was later, as Kal-El was readying to leave, that Dick finally caught him alone.

“Tim’s missing.” He explained.

“I figured it must be something like that.” Kal-El nodded. “Why hasn’t Bruce asked for my help in looking for him? I can cover this whole island in a matter of minuets.”

“We’ve already searched the island. He’s not here.” Dick informed him. “Not in the city or any of the surrounding wilderness. Listen, Kal, do you think… could maybe look for him in Hunterville for me?”

“Hunterville?” The alienus blinked at him. He suddenly turned… ‘angry’ was not the right word. ‘Fearful’, maybe? No, what would Kal-El have to fear from a member of the bat-clan in his town? They were all friends. ‘Territorial’, maybe. Yeah, lets go with that. Kal-El suddenly turned territorial. “I asked you all to stay out of Hunterville. Why would Tim be there?”

“I don’t know if he’s there or not.” Dick was quick to assure him. “He might not even be in the Colonies at all by this point. I don’t know how he would manage to get all the way over there from here in this weather. But, my gut says to check Hunterville. Since I can’t, will you?”

“Of course I will.” Kal assured him. And he would. Not just as a favor to Dick, but also to enforce his ban of werewolf-hunters in his town.

…

Tim awoke to find a strange… what was that? A fruit? Sitting on his bedside table with a bright red ribbon around it. It looked like a pinecone, but with a crown of waxy leaves sprouting up from its top. The new wolf sniffed it tentatively. It smelled of sweet fruit and tropical air. It must be something from Conner’s island. Tim ignored it.

He climbed out of bed and opened the window. It was still snowing outside, but not as hard as the previous night and the harsh winds were gone. Outside, the groundskeepers aware already shoveling the property’s private lane clear. Tim cast a glance at the suit the Luthor’s had provided for him. It was a bit fancy for just a casual stroll into town, but it was all the clothing Tim had thus far and he needed to get into Hunterville. Get his bearings. Devise a plan. 

He would need money, supplies and information. Most of all, he needed information. That was something he could only get in town. Tim didn’t trust any of the second-hand accounts and rumors that came into the house (not that he’d yet had the chance to hear many). Like any good detective, he gathered his own intelligence and did not wholly trust anyone’s second hand information. 

The suit fit well enough. But it really wasn’t meant for casual wear and he felt like a fop for wearing it. Like the idiot person Bruce pretended to be while in public. Could Tim pull off a fop? Back in Gotham his public persona was that of an overly studious scholar with a weak constitution and low threshold for action. That was the part he was used to playing. Fop just didn’t fit him and he felt uncomfortable in his own skin wearing clothes that were so fine in disproportion to his purposes in wearing them. But he had a mission, so he put it out of his mind.

Tim snagged a couple of uncooked sausages from the kitchen on his way out. He was still craving raw meat and they were already out and easy to snag. He regretted taking them the moment he bit into one, however. What he craved was raw meat, not meat that was simply uncooked but still dressed with a myriad of spices. It wasn’t the fact that they were spicy that bothered him; it was the fact that they had spices at all. 

After spitting out his first bite, Tim reminded himself that he did still need to eat something. So he forced the rest down his throat anyway. He didn’t get more than five paces from the main gate before he was leaning over, one hand braced on a tree, puking his guts out in a snow-dike. 

‘Note to self: Raw meat means RAW.’

Well that was interesting. And informative. Conner said this wouldn’t last. That he’d be craving raw meat for only ‘a while’ before he could go back to eating normal food again. Tim wasn’t sure how long ‘a while’ was, but he hopped it wasn’t very long. 

It was Christmas day and not many people were out and about. Ideally, when surveying a new place, Tim preferred to go out during busy times. When there were thick crowds of people to hide him. But he didn’t want to spend another day cooped up in the Luthor manor. He needed to feel like he was working. That he was doing something. Plus, Tim didn’t think he could hold out against Conner’s pleas to be forgiven much longer anyway.

So, while it wasn’t exactly the most ideal of times, it was still better sooner rather than later. 

Most of the shops were closed. That was to be expected. It was Christmas day and most people were at home with their families. The constable’s office was open, and a number of the inns showed activity. There were a few people out and about, on their way to or from making social calls. But for the most part, Tim was alone on the streets. 

From the buildings around him he could smell ham and turkeys roasting in their wood-burning ovens. Chestnuts over open fires. Pies cooling on windowsills. Wine. Cider. Other spirits. Human scents of excitement, pleasure, contentment, arousal. Damn, now he wished Conner were out here with him. No. No. No. You’re mad at him, remember. And negative scents like anxiety. The holidays were difficult for those less fortunate. 

Then another scent entirely caught his attention. At first he mistook it for Conner following him from the manor and he almost called out. Told him to stop hiding and show himself. But Tim paused. It was like Conner’s scent, but different. Steel and stars, yes. But this scent was older. With hints of apples, and corn. Paper and ink. It must be Kal-El’s scent! Tim couldn’t think of any other person in the Colonies –heck, in the world- that would smell like steel and stars.

He scanned the street and saw a man setting out of the office of a local periodical. Tim’s eyes narrowed at him. That couldn’t possibly be Kal-EL. No way! He smelled of steel and stars, but he was dressed… normally. A plain brown breeches and coat suit with a darker brown waistcoat. He pushed a pair of spectacles up the bridge of his nose as he stepped out, closing the door behind him. But the moment he stepped out into the lane, he slipped on the icy stoop and faell ass-flat in the snow.

Tim crossed the street and offered him a hand up. Yes, that was definitely the scent of steel and stars. Yes, it was definitely coming from this man. He just couldn’t possibly be…

“Kal-El?” He found himself asking. “I’d think you’d be more graceful that that. After all, what’s a little ice to someone who can fly?”

The man looked up at him in startled confusion and for a moment Tim was afraid he’d made a mistake and this man really wasn’t the alienus. But then those eyes turned sharp as they registered his face and Tim saw that the thick glass of the spectacles muted just how vibrantly blue his eyes were. Crystal-blue. Like Conner’s. 

At seeing the former-hunter, his whole demeanor changed. The slumped shoulders straitened. His head was raised and he said, in a soft but commanding voice, “Not here, Tim. Follow me around the corner.”

So he follower Kal a bit of a ways down the lane and around the corner of a gap between buildings. 

“Well, you certainly made things easy for me.” He said once they were out of site. 

“What do you mea- Kal-El, what are you doing!?” Admittedly, it was a bit obvious. Tim didn’t really need to ask. Kal-El had wrapped one arm around his waist and lifted them both into the air. “Put me down!”

“I will.” Kal assured him. “As soon as we get back to Gotham.”

“To Gotham. No! Kal, I can’t go back there!” He began to struggle in the alienus’ grip, already knowing it was futile. 

“Your brother is really worried about you. Whatever it is that made you decide to run away, I’m sure you’ll work it out. I know Bruce can be a little overbearing and difficult a lot of the time.” Kal replied. “But I’m a little disappointed you didn’t honor my request for you to stay out of Hunterville. I don’t like werewolf hunters in my town.”

“And I know why.” Tim informed him, still struggling. “Kal, let me go.”

The alienus sighed. “I suppose it was only a matter of time until ONE of you found out. Promise me you won’t tell Bruce, okay? He won’t understand and… it’s complicated.”

“I’m still hazy in the details.” Tim informed him, wondering how he could break Kal-El’s hold without Green Stone since he had none. “But if you don’t want me to tell Bruce than just turn around and take me back to Hunterville. Please, Kal, there’s things I still need to learn.”

“Sorry, Tim.” Kal shook his head. “Its bad enough you know about him at all.”

Damn it! Was that the causeway coming into view? Damn these flying men and their super-speed. They were almost back at Gotham now and Tim could NOT go back there. Not now. Not anymore. “Damn it, Kal! If you don’t turn around right now, I’ll… I WILL FUCKING BITE YOU!” 

Of course it was a bluff. If his new teeth, sharp though they were, couldn’t penetrate Conner’s skin, there was no way they were gonna penetrate Kal-El’s. Living in Hunterville, facing off with Luthor, Kal probably already knew that too. But it still managed to get his attention. He paused in their flight. Shifting the former-hunter in his arms, he held Tim out in front of him. Studying the younger man. 

“That’s an odd threat.” He said. “I mean, for someone like you to make.”

They hovered in silence for a moment. Kal studying him. Tim wondering if the sometimes thick alienus would figure it out on his own or if he would need it spelled out for him.

“I can’t go home, Kal.” Tim said again after a prolonged pause. 

“Tim, you’re…”

He nodded.

“Is that why you ran away?”

Ah. Well, technically he hadn’t run away. He was whisked away while unconscious after being bitten. But that was a bit complicated for him to explain to Kal-El. So, Tim compromised with himself and answered, “Kind of.”

“Oh, Tim, I’m so sorry.” And he sounded sincere. “C’mon, you can have breakfast with my wife and I and tell me all about it. How long ago were you bitten? Do I need to feed you fresh meat, or can you eat regular food?”


	8. Breakfast With the Parents

It was so surreal. 

When Tim imagined Kal-El's home, he imagined walls of white stone and crystal, a ceiling of ice. Tall statues and images from his ancestral home world. But that was not what he was surrounded by at all. 

Instead of a remote and secluded fortress, Kal-El flew him to a small and perfectly ordinary looking farm, with a conservative and perfectly ordinary looking farm house. Walls of white-washed wood, whicker furniture on the porch. Inside was papered in blue wallpaper. A solid oak table took up most of the kitchen and was in the process of being set by a woman with dark hair unbound and tumbling over her shoulders. Not even a night cap, or house bonnet to at least give the pretense of modesty. Tim might have felt politely scandalized by that fact had this not been her own home and he not been an unexpected guest. Also, he had bigger things going on in his life right now. The state of a woman's composure was the least of his concerns. 

She looked up from her task at them. Seeing Kal-El had brought home a stranger her violet eyes flashed with irritation. “I didn't know you were bringing home guests, Clark!” She started gathering her loose hair and tried tying it behind her head. “Does our unplanned visitor have a name? He's not another one of your cousins, is he?”

“Sorry, Lois.” Kal-El gave a sheepish smile of apology. A sheepish smile! Tim had never known the alienus to be sheepish about anything. “This is one of my friends from Gotham -Tim. Tim, this is my wife, Lois Kent.”

At that the woman's whole demeanor changed. She went from politely embarrassed country wife, to serious and practical member of Kal-El's entourage. “From Gotham? Are you one of the Bats?”

Startled, Tim looked back at the alienus. “You told her about us!”

Kal-El only shrugged. “She's my wife.”

“A wife can make your life very miserable if you don't tell her what she wants to know.” Mrs. Kent informed him. “So, what's one of Mr. Wayne's bats doing all the way over here?”

There was a pause. 

Tim looked at his feet, not really comfortable confessing his curse to a complete stranger. Not to mention, it was a long story.

“He's been converted.” Kal-El supplied. He certainly didn't have any misgivings about sharing Tim's problems with his wife. “I promised him a meal while he told us how it happened.”

Lois sighed, crossing her arms over her chest. “How long ago? Do I have to go out to the barn and kill something, or can you make do with what I already have on the table?”

“I'll get something for him.” Kal-El assured his wife. He vanished in a rush of air, the door swinging shut behind him. No sooner had it swung shut, than it opened again. Kal-El reappeared holding a freshly slaughtered and skinned chicken, the head and feet cut off. This he set on a plate with a knife and fork setting. Tim might be eating raw meat, but that didn't mean he had to eat like an animal. “Here. Sit down and tell me all about it.”

Tim did sit down, but he didn't instantly launch into his narrative. Honestly, he didn't really know what was going on anymore. His whole life was really starting to feel more like a dream. He was a werewolf hunter turned into a werewolf. He was flown from Gotham to Hunterville by a flying werewolf prince. He met Kal-El's wife -Kal-El had a wife! And now here he was, sitting down to breakfast with said strange visitor from a far-off world and said strange visitor's wife. It was all just to surreal. 

Ignoring the appetizing meat in front of him, he hung his head in his hands. “I don't even know where to star.”

Kal-El placed a comforting hand on his shoulder. It was warm, and the light squeeze was strong but gentle. “Start with whatever you're most comfortable with sharing.”

Thinking back over the strange and unorthodox series of events that lead him up to this point, Tim doubted that he would feel comfortable sharing any of it. But Kal-El was being so kind to him and he really didn't have to be. Though he was technically a werewolf now, Tim still considered himself a hunter and the alienus had forbidden all werewolf hunters in his town. Tim was trespassing and Kal-El was well within his rights to dump Tim back in Gotham without so much as a 'by your leave'. Taking a deep breath, the werewolf hunter freshly turned werewolf began. “It started when I met Connor Luthor.”

The hand on Tim's shoulder was removed, but other than that, Kal-El did not make his disapproval known. 

“I know. I know.” Tim groaned. “No hunters in Hunterville. But Conner wasn't in Hunterville. I found him outside the city. On the road between here and Gotham, and, yes, I attacked him. But I was no match for him. He had all these extra abilities that normal werewolves don't have.” A pointed glare at Kal-El. “Your abilities.” 

Tim looked up at the alienus. He hadn't phrased it like a question, but he desperately wanted to know why the young Luthor -why his mate- had the alienus' powers. But Kal-El was avoiding his eyes -an unreadable expression on his face. 

Deciding that the older man wasn't going to explain, Tim continued. “I didn't know what he was or what to do, so I decided to head back home to do more research. He followed me. He said he wanted...” Here Tim paused, not sure how to explain this detail. Connor was part Luthor and part Kal-El and that was far stranger than just two men buggering together, but that didn't mean that two men being together was widely accepted -it didn't mean the alienus would accept it without judgment. “He said he wanted me to be his- -his friend.”

Kal-El raised an eyebrow. 

Not knowing what else to say or how to explain, Tim only shrugged. “We became friends and he continued to come over and see me after I got back to Gotham. As part of our friendship, he promised not to convert me if I agreed to stop hunting werewolves. For a few nights it went alright. I went on solo patrols, or got Richard to cover for me... But then Bruce asked me to accompany him on a patrol and I couldn't not do my job right in front of him. Conner knew and got angry. He said I broke the deal, so he bit me. When I woke up, I was in Luthor's house.”

“That's quite the story.” Kal-El finally commented. He sat down at the table opposite the younger man. “Eat your meat, Tim. You need the nourishment.”

Still feeling awkward, but not knowing what else to do, Tim did as he was told. Picking up his knife and fork, he cut into the raw bird in front of him. After the first bite, he was suddenly reminded that he puked up his breakfast and hadn't eaten anything since. Tim was suddenly ravenous and tore into the chicken with more fervor than was civilized. 

“Since Kon-El is at the center of your ordeal, I suppose I'm obligated to give you some sort of explanation.” The alienus said at length. 

Tim looked up, slightly startled. From the context, he assumed 'Kon-El' was Conner. He was not expecting Kal-El to explain anything about the strange super-wolf. 

“Conner Luthor was supposed to be Kon-El, my son. Conner Kent.” He began a little awkwardly. “You see, Lois and I can't have children. We'd almost given up on trying until we met a man named Westfield. He was obsessed with the legend of Cadmus, the Greek king who sewed dragon's teeth into the soil and reaped a crop of men, he wanted to try it. But dragons are a tad few and far between nowadays. So he asked me for the next best thing -one of my teeth. It seemed like a perfectly agreeable arrangement. He'd get to try his Greek magic and Lois and I would get a son.”

He paused, looking down at his plate in what could only be called regret. 

“I should have known it was too good to be true. Westfield was hired by Luthor into giving him a piece of myself. Westfield planted my tooth, but he planted it with one of Luthor's too. The Cadmus magic mingled them and the person that grew from it was half me and half Luthor.”

“But, why?” Tim asked, not understanding the most important aspect of the story. The motive. What was Luthor's motive for doing that? To have a being capable of combating Kal-El? If that was the case, it hadn't worked out very well. Conner didn't care about fighting Kal-El or controlling the city. He wanted to get away. Go someone where no one had ever heard the name Luthor and start a pack of his own... with Tim. 

At his question, the alienus gave an awkward, almost self-conscious smile. “Its a little embarrassing to explain. Its not exactly the sort of thing one mentions in polite conversation. You see... Luthor... Ah, how do I explain this. Luthor is obsessed with me, that you already know. But his interest in me isn't exactly the normal sort of obsessive interest. Its more like... what he really wants is...”

“Conner and I are mates.” Tim announced flatly, guessing at what Kal-El was stumbling over trying to explain without actually explaining it. 

The alienus blinked. “Oh. That's... that's not what I expected, but... But that is what Luthor wanted from me, so I can't say I'm too surprised.”

An awkward silence settled over the breakfast table. 

Mrs. Kent cleared her throat. 

Both men jumped. They'd forgotten than she was there. 

“So, what are you going to do, Mr. Drake?” She asked in all seriousness. “What has happened to you is unfortunate, but just because you're converted doesn't actually mean you have to stop being a werewolf hunter. The two are not mutually exclusive. In fact, the job might even be easier for you now that you have the added benefits that come with werewolf conversion.”

Tim looked down at his food. “Conner would never forgive me if I did that.”

He mentally kicked himself the moment the words were out of his mouth. He was supposed to still be mad at the man and not care what he thought. But... at the same time... Conner was his mate... 

“So then, I repeat, what are you going to do now?” Mrs. Kent pressed. “You can't go back to Gotham and you are clearly unhappy here.” 

It was all Tim could do to just shrug. After a prolonged pause, he sighed in resignation. “I guess I'll move with Conner to a remote tropical island somewhere. I think he's already found one. When I woke up this morning I found this weird fruit by my bed.”

“And you can do that?” Lois asked, fixing him with a pointed stare. The kind of look that could make a man feel pressured to answer all questions truthfully. If she weren't a woman, Lois Kent would have made an excellent investigator. “You can move to the middle of no where and live with the man who converted you against your will?” 

Tim looked down at his hands. She made an excellent point. Mrs. Kent was exceptionally keen and observant. No wonder Kal-El had married her. She was a perfect match for him. 

“Whatever you do,” began Kal-El, “you need to talk to Kon-El. Whatever decision you make, it will affect him too.”

“I know...” Tim sighed again. “I know I have to. I will. Really. But... I'm not ready yet. Can I, maybe, stay here a bit longer. I'm not quite ready to face him again yet.”

No sooner were these words out of his mouth, however, than the door banged open, sending in a rush of air and snow flurries. 

Everyone turned to see none other than Conner Luthor standing in the doorway looking angry, aggressive, and ready for a fight. “Alright, Kal, where is he? I know he's here.”

Tim found himself suppressing the urge to face-palm. “If its me you mean, I'm sitting right in front of you.” (There was a silent 'idiot' at the end of that sentence.) 

Conner shoved Kal-El out of the way and crossed the space to his mate. “What the hell, Tim? Why'd you leave!?”

One dark eyebrow was raised at the half-wolf. “Is that a serious question? Was I not allowed to leave, or did you plan to keep me locked up in Lex Luthor's house forever?”

Okay, but seriously, though. That was a real question. Was that actually Conner's plan? To keep him imprisoned in the bedroom until he was ready to move them both to his tropical island paradise? If so, then Tim made an incredible -and terrible- misjudgment when he agreed to become Conner's mate in the first place. He thought he was signing up for a monogamous sexual relationship between two consenting adults. He did not think he was signing up to be a prisoner and sex-slave to an overpowers alienus-werewolf hybrid with more daddy-issues than the whole Bat Clan combined. 

“No, of course not!” Conner insisted, both hands taking Tim by the shoulder -and it was wrong just how nice even that small and chase physical contact felt. As mad as he still was, Tim wanted his mate to touch him. Needed to feel Conner's hand on him. “I just thought... you've been so mad at me, and when I saw you weren't there, I... I thought...”

Sinking to his knees, Conner knelt in front of the chair Tim was sitting in, and rested his forehead on the other man's knee. 

Unconsciously, Tim reached a hand out to tousle his hair, inhaling the man's scent. Steel and stars, and mine. He loved that scent. In all honesty, Tim could not imagine his life without that scent in it. He wouldn't run away. He couldn't leave his mate. That was why he wasn't ready to talk to Conner yet. He couldn't think critically around him. He needed some space from his mate to seriously analyze the possibilities of a future with his mate. 

An awkward silence settled over the breakfast table as Kal-El and his wife just stared at the two young men awkwardly touching in their dining room. Finally, Mrs. Kent cleared her throat. 

“Have you eaten, Kon?” 

Conner straightened, as if suddenly remembering that the other two were there and he and Tim had an audience. He cleared his throat, ready to refuse Lois' offer. But then he noticed the barely touched raw chicken at his mate's place at the table. Turing his attention back to Tim, he was looking at the other man when he answered Lois' question. “I'll stay until Tim's finished his food.” 

In all honesty, Tim was so twisted up with emotions that he wasn't really all that hungry. But he wasn't ready to go back to Luthor Manor just yet either. So, he took the offered excuse and cut another bite from the pink and bloody bird in front of him. Kon pulled out a chair and sat beside his mate to watch him eat. 

“I am glad to see you feeling more like yourself again.” He said as he watched Tim suck the marrow out of leg bone. 

The other man shot him a withering look. He would never feel like himself again. 

Kal-El and Mrs. Kent also sat down. With in moment, everyone had returned to their breakfast and the pretense that this was a polite and pleasant family meal. 

“So, Kon-El,” began Kal-El after a pause, “Tim tells us that you plan on leaving Hunterville.”

“I always planned on leaving Hunterville.” The younger alienus reminded him. 

Yes, but before it had all been talk. Now, with the appearance of Tim and the fact that Kon-El had finally gotten himself a mate, it looked like it might actually happen. 

“Mr. Drake tells us you've already found a place.” Lois added. 

“Uh, yeah.” Conner admitted. 

For some reason talking to Mrs. Kent felt more awkward than talking to Kal-El. With Kal he could be rude and snippy because he knew that his sire would just take it and not really retaliate. The alienus did not believe in starting confrontations. He also might have felt a little responsible for Conner's unconventional and conflicting life since he was the one taken in and manipulated by Westfield in the first place. But Lois... Lois did like conflict. She enjoyed arguments and shouting matches. Trading barbs and insults as much and as often as well formulated arguments and dissenting opinions. Conner was sure he would have been a very different person if he'd grown up with her as a mother. 

“Yeah, I'm just waiting one Tim to decide he's ready to go.” He cast a hesitant but pleading look at his mate. 

Tim looked away. Avoiding eye-contact and instead focusing his attention on his raw chicken. Foregoing the knife and fork, he ripped off the other wet, meaty leg and sank his sharper-than-human teeth into it, ripping the tender pink flesh from the bone and chewing loudly. He did it in the hopes that it might make Conner uncomfortable. But his mate had been a werewolf and lived with werewolves all his life. This was nothing new or special to him. But Tim did succeed in making Kal-El and Mrs. Kent uncomfortable. He swallowed and dabbed at his mouth with the table cloth. 

They were all looking at him. 

Clearing his throat, Tim admitted. “I don't want to stay with Luthor's pack any more than Conner does. But, I'm still new to this whole werewolf thing. I'm physically stronger and faster, but I don't know what my new limits are and I can't be finding them out while also trying to explore and settle a previously undiscovered island on the other side o the world. There's also things I need to learn and can only learn from another werewolf -like how to transform. Werewolves are supposed to be able to transform back and forth at will. I need to know how to do that and control myself when I am transformed. As much as I hate to admit it, its not practical to leave right now.”

Conner looked disappointed 

“Spoken like a true bat.” Kal-El shook his head. 

“That means you'll be in town at least until winter's end.” Lois concluded. 

Tim thought, roughly three months here in Hunterville. That sounded like plenty of time to get a hold of his new abilities and understand the changes becoming a werewolf made to his body. But, that also meant that he and Conner would still be here when the snows melted and the passes opened again. Bruce would be able to get to them. He would kill Conner outright. Between his Green Stone and all his silver he'd be able to do it too. And Tim... Bruce wouldn't see it as 'killing' Tim, he would view it as 'ending his curse' or 'putting him out of his misery'. A mercy killing. 

Tim needed to get a hold of his new abilities, but he also needed to make sure that neither himself nor Conner were still in town when he arrived. 

“Good.” Lois nodded. “That should give you both time to work out your issues and Mr. Drake time to decide what he really wants.”


	9. Full Moon

Dick was out on patrol when Kal-El returned from Hunterville with news for him. 

He scooped the young hunter up and set him back down again atop a snow caked rooftop. Dick was the eldest student of the Known-World's Greatest Detective. It only took him one look at the alienus' face to know that he had found Tim. Found him. But in a condition Dick would wish otherwise. He found himself suddenly preparing to hear new that his youngest brother was dead. 

“Well?” He prompted when Kal didn't speak immediately. 

The super man avoided eye-contact. He wasn't looking at Dick when he said, “He's in Hunterville, like you thought.”

He is, not he was. Present tense. Tim was still alive! That werewolf lover of his hadn't killed him. Dick let out a breath he didn't realize he was holding in. Of course his werewolf lover wouldn't kill him. Werewolves mated for life. If Conner Luthor killed Tim then he would be alone for the rest of his life. So, of course Tim had to be alive! Tim was alive, but Kal looked so grim-face, he could not be well. 

“But...?” He prompted the alienus. “Red Robin's in Hunterville, but-?”

Kal-El drew in a breath. Let it out slowly. “Nightwing, he's... he's been converted.”

Dick knew it had to be something like that. Tim wouldn't just up and leave the family without leaving some kind of word. Not the truth, but at least some version of an explanation. He would not leave without packing at least some of his things. Clothes, some books, his journal at least! Dick remembered the strewn clothing and broken belt in their secret rendezvous cave. That had to be where it happened. Tim was bitten and converted against his will. It might not have been the sexual rape Dick was imagining, but it was still a violation of body and trust. 

Tim was betrayed by his lover. Tim was a werewolf now. 

Dick bit the inside of his cheek. “You can't tell Batman.”

“I wasn't going to.” The alienus assured him. 

“I need to see my brother.” Dick continued. “Can you take me to Hunterville?” A pause. Of course Kal-El could. “Would you take me to Hunterville?”

Kal-El pursed his lips. He did not like the idea of hunters in his town. 

“Please, Kal?” Dick pleaded. “He's my baby brother and I'm the only one who knew about his lover. I kept their secret and look what happened to him. I need to see him. I need to know he's okay.”

“He's...” The super man paused, searching for the right worlds. From what he saw Tim was perfectly fine physically. But he was not doing as well emotionally. To go from a werewolf hunter to a werewolf himself. “He's trying to adjust. I think the upcoming full moon will help. I'll ask him if he wants to see you after then. If Tim feels up to having guests, I'll bring you over right away.”

Dick supposed that was the best he could hope for. He didn't much like the idea of the alienus keeping him from his brother. But with all travel between cities blocked by ice and snow, there was no way for the hunter to get there under his own power. Begrudgingly, he nodded. “I'll come up with an excuse to tell Batman.” 

...

The full moon rolled around again. 

The snow was thick on the ground when Conner lead Tim out of the manor at sunset. The former hunter had felt his blood pounding in his veins all day. At first he thought it was just his body's frustration at continuing to refuse sex with his mate. But as the day wore on, drawing ever closer to night fall and moon rise, Tim realized what it really was. 

It was the sear of moonlight as its wild power pulsed within him, pounding against the prison of his body demanding release. 

No wonder werewolves were so... crazy during a full moon. If this was what it felt like. 

Tim was reminded of his fever dream after he was bitten. Of being surrounded by moonlight. Wrapped in it. Steeped in it. It pierced his skin. Seeped into his pores. Promised freedom and power. Wild and ancient –like the wild wolves of legend. How much of it was dream and how much of it was real? 

Conner lead him out into the woods behind the Luthor estate. 

Around them he saw others were already out there. Elaine and Casey Griggs stood partially hidden behind a stand of trees, Mr. Griggs helping his mate unlace her corset. Mercy was off to the side, not even bothering with a pretense of modesty as she disrobed. Happerson sat in the snow pulling off his boots. Tim didn't see Lex anywhere. As the Alpha and leader of the Hunterville pack, he would have expected to see him in the center of the gathering. 

Conner let go of Tim's hand and began unlacing the front of his shirt. He had dressed lightly, just his shirt and trousers -not even shoes. Tim had already noticed that the cold didn't really bother his mate. But it did bother Tim. He had to marvel at everyone else stripping so easily and unaffected. Tim still wore his coat over his clothes. 

Seeing this, Conner reached his hands out and began unbuttoning Tim's coat for him. “Wolves don't wear clothes.”

“You're still wearing pants.” He pointed out.

Those crystal blue eyes turned self-conscious and Conner looked away. “I... I'm not- I can't-” He paused. Sighed. Explained. “Because I'm half-alienus the magic doesn't really work for me the way its supposed to. Its why you haven't seen me transform ever. I can't do it on my own. Only during the full moon, and even then, not all the way.”

Tim raised an eyebrow at him. “Not all the way?”

“Hence the pants.” He hooked a thumb in his waistband. “You'll see.”

Conner went back to unbuttoning Tim's coat for him. They were the only two still wearing clothes. The sun had already dipped below the horizon now. It was just a faint violet glow in the distance. The moon would be up soon. Tim could feel it in his blood. It made him restless and when Conner finally pushed Tim's coat off his shoulders he didn't feel cold. It made him hot as well. 

The vest was the next thing to go. Then the shirt. When Conner's hands drifted down to the buttons of Tim's trousers, the former hunter stopped him. “I'll do that one.”

He was still mad at his mate for converting him against his will -or so he kept reminding himself. Tim might feel hot and wild from the power of the rising moon. But he was sure that if he felt his mate's hands anywhere near that most intimate region of his body, he would feel hot and wild for entirely different reasons and that was something he didn't want again. 

Tim was pushing his trousers down to his knees when the moon rose over the horizon and he felt a tremor shudder though his whole body. He fell forward, hands braced on the snow covered ground. Tim gasped in a breath, feeling his guts twist inside him. His bones strained against his skin. Thick dark hair sprouted on his neck and down his back, up his arms and over his chest, down his legs and across his belly. The only reason Tim didn't also feel the fur on his face was because his jaw hurt more, overshadowing the sensation. 

His teeth, that were already sharper than an average humans, elongated. His canines extending into proper fangs, his molars and front pallet shifting from just 'sharp' to actually pointed like a wolf's. The shape of his jaw changed, his mouth and nose extending into a muzzle. His ears grew pointed. Tim tried to scream in pain, but it came out as a snarling growl. His throat couldn't make human sounds anymore. 

His hands braced on the ground also changed. Covered in dark fur. Nails extending into claws. Fingers shortening into paw-toes. His legs twisting into hind legs, better for jumping, running, and bounding between trees. His spine extending as a fur-covered wolf's tail grew out of his backside. His whole body hurt with all of the twisting, churning, and changing it was doing. Yet every time Tim opened his mouth to scream and give voice to the feeling, all that came out were inhuman snarls and growls. He wanted to ask Conner why, but even that one word could not be given voice. It seemed the only sounds his body would make now were those of an animal. 

Finally, the pain stopped. 

The shift complete. 

Where once stood Timothy Drake, there instead lay a panting and disoriented looking wolf. 

Slightly larger than the average timber wolf. With dark fur that didn't quite lay smooth. The jagged scars that marred Tim's human skin had lingered, making it so that the fur of his wolf form just would not lay flat. Pushing himself back up, standing on all four paws, Tim looked at himself. Cobalt blue eyes taking note of his distinctive fur patterns, solid black in color, but messy and disheveled in a way that no amount of grooming could fix. He looked at all four of his paws, large paws with pawpads that were already as well-worn and callused as his human hands, the claws sharper than what a normal wolf's should be. And the tail-

Ohmygod! He had a tail! 

Tim gave the new and unfamiliar limb an experimental swish. 

Ohmygod! He had a tail! 

It felt so weird! 

He tried twisting his body around to get a better look at it. But it was on his backside, so as he got closer to it, it moved farther from him. Before he even realized what he was doing, Tim was -literally- chasing his tail.

A rumble that might have been the wolf-equivalent of a laugh was heard off to his side. Not close enough to be Conner. Tim paused long enough to raise his head and look. A brown she-wolf that smelled like Mercy was staring incredulously at him, as if insulted by his tail-chase. Her jaw was open and there was a sound rolling out of her that definitely wasn't a growl or a snarl. Really the only word Tim could think of was a snicker. She was laughing at him. 

First time in his werewolf form and the first thing he does is chase his tail. He must be hilarious!

Tim looked to Conner for some guidance as to what he should do now. He was transformed. What next. 

A very puppy-like yelp of surprise escaped him when he saw his mate's transformation. 

While Tim had transformed into what was essentially a fully formed and proper wolf -just a little larger than a timber wolf- Conner's transformation appeared to have halted right in the middle between wolf and man. 

He had the elongated snout of a wolf, a furry face, and pointed ears. But the ears were pointed human ears -fixed to the sides of the head, not fuzzy canid ears that perched atop the head. He still stood upright. Shoulders hunched slight, but still standing on only two legs. The feet had shifted into paws. Large, clawed monstrosities, covered in black fur that were much, much bigger than Tim's paws. The legs looked mostly wolfish too, up until just above the knees where they disappeared under the pants that Conner still wore. His bare chest was covered in thick black fur, the same shade of ebony as his normal hair in human form. The arms looked human still -if significantly harrier- but the hands at the ends of them were more sinewy, the fingers longer than they should be, the nails at the end of said finger replaced by thick, dark canid claws. 

'Not all the way.' Connor said about his transformation. He couldn't transform all the way. He was caught in the middle. A true half-wolf. 

Tim wanted to cross the space between them. Go to his mate and nuzzle him affectionately so that he understood that Tim didn't care that he couldn't transform all the way. 

And then he realized there was no reason not to. Sure, he'd been mad at Conner these past few days. But he couldn't stay mad at the other man forever. They were life-mates after all. Eventually they would have to make up. If for no other reason than Conner would always stay with him no matter where he went or chose to do and it would be easier to live with a man he was on pleasant terms with than at constant odds with. 

Crossing the space between them, Tim rubbed his cheek and forehead against the taller beast's hip. Conner dropped down onto all fours, reciprocating Tim's attentions by sliding his own elongated snout along the side of Tim's face. His tongue flicked out, licking the fully transformed wolf's ears. With a soft groan, Conner pulled away from his mate enough to look the other beast in the eyes. They couldn't speak in their transformed states, their throats and vocal cords no longer held the right shapes to form human words, but the question in his eyes was clear. 'Does this mean you forgive me?'

Tim couldn't shrug as a wolf. Not really. He tried. But his shoulders didn't lift and move that was. What he ended up with was a slight bobbing down of his head and neck. Realizing that this could have just as easily been interpreted as a nod of affirmative, Tim gave a frustrated little growl. How did werewolves communicate when they were like this? It was the one thing neither he nor Bruce could ever figure out. There was clearly an intelligence and organization behind pack movements and attacks. But how did they coordinate those movements and attacks if they couldn't talk? Lay everything out and agree on what everything before the moon went down? 

If that was the case, Tim had missed the meeting.

Mercy was laughing at him again. Making that odd throat noise that was neither growl nor barks. It was almost like a cackle or a chirp. More similar to the kinds of sounds a fox might make rather than a wolf's. Happerson came up beside her and gave her a harmless little nip on the neck. Not in an affectionate sort of way. More like he was trying to say, 'Cut the guy some slack. Its his first full moon.'

Conner gave his mate one more affectionate lick of his tongue -this one on Tim's nose- before drawing himself back up to his full beastly height, his attention turning to the pack now. One short clip of a bark and Conner commanded the whole pack's attention. It was then that Tim actually realized what his mate's role was in the pack -or at least what his role was tonight. 

Lex was nowhere to be seen, that Tim had already noticed. But he hadn't considered the fact that he had never actually seen a pack out on the night of the full moon without an Alpha. With Lex in absence someone else from within the pack would have to step up. With normal wolves -and quite possibly normal werewolves- there would have been a fight to establish dominance and select a new or temporary Alpha. But Conner was a super-werewolf. With enhanced strength beyond the normal enhancement of the curse, as well as other powers -that he presumably kept even in his transformed state. There was literally no one in this pack that could challenge him. 

A turn of the head indicated to the pack which direction their Alpha intended. To the west. More inland and away from town. Conner intended to keep the pack away from big human population centers. Griggs and his mate were the first to move, heading the column. The old pair testing the snow-covered ground and making a trail for the rest to follow. Mercy and Happerson were next. Following the path made by Griggs and Elaine. Tim looked to Conner, expecting them to be the pair that followed next. 

Dropping back to all fours, the Alpha gave his mate a light shove with his nose, urging the other male forward. Tim stumbled on his paws for a moment. Almost falling nose first into the snow. Conner could shove pretty hard. But after some embarrassing paw work he managed to get all four feet back under him. He looked back at his mate one more time, then followed the rest of the pack. Conner brought up the rear. 

The Alpha always brought up the rear. 

He watched the rest of the pack. Made sure none of its members strayed from the group. Watched over the column, and kept a look out for attack. 

It was an entirely new experience for Tim, getting to see pack dynamics from within the pack, rather than an outside observer. No other hunter ever had the opportunity to. Idly, as Tim fell in line with the other wolves, he wondered if he should even still refer to himself as a hunter -even in his own mind. He certainly hadn't hunter since waking up from being bitten, and he had no real intentions to maintain the practice either. Could he really still call himself a werewolf hunter?

Slowly, the naked trees began to thin out, giving way to a wide open meadow covered in pristine virgin snow. The moon shining bright on it, reflecting off the pure white snow and washing everything in silvery light. 

All thoughts of being a werewolf hunter vanished from Tim's mind as he found himself once again steeped in moonlight. Silver rays showering down on him from above. Gray light flowing around him mirrored off the snow. It was so fluffy and white. It was like his fever dream. The tops of clouds. Being bathed in moonlight. Wild, ancient power. Tim's blood was suddenly pounding in his ears and he felt an energy he hadn't had a moment ago. An intense, burning need to run, jump, bound, howl up a the sky. Sing the praise of the moon and all the gifts she bestowed on her children. (In the morning Tim might ask himself where that idea had come from and spend hours trying to analyze the feeling. But, in this moment, all he wanted was action, not thought.)

He broke away from the rest of the pack, bounding across the field. Through the perfect snow of the meadow. His body leaving a wolf-sized trench to mark his path. 

Conner barked after him, commanding the other male to come back to the pack. The rest of the pack turned to look. Mercy gave another one of those fox-like cackles of laughter at his display. Conner turned a human-eyed glare at her and the she-wolf quieted down. The Alpha gave them a slight nod and with that the rest of them were given leave to round, and jump, and bound just as Tim was doing. Then Conner went sprinting after his mate, lowering himself down on all fours to run like a proper wolf -even if he looked nothing like one. Tim went running off without the pack leader's permission. 

Tim paused to sniff something interesting. Snorted, deciding he didn't really like it all that much. Resumed running. Dove into a drift that was higher than he was tall. Had to jump out again. He climbed up at snowy hill, his paws turning muddy as he churned the snow up in the dirt. No sooner did Tim make it out of the drift and to the top of the hill than he found himself suddenly pushed back down by Conner. 

Tim snarled up at the other male.

Conner growled back down at him. 

Before he was even aware what he was doing, Tim rolled over onto his back, displaying his belly in submission. Conner nodded, satisfied. 

Realizing what he'd just done, Tim rolled back onto his paws with a groan. He climbed back up to the top of the hill and nipped at Conner's neck. The half-wolf gave a yip of surprise and nipped right back. A playful growl rumbled out of Tim's throat and he head-butted Conner in the shoulder. Conner let out his own little cackle of laughter and tried nipping at his mate a second time. This time it was Tim's turn to yip. Then he went bounding off again. Running down the opposite side of the hill. He paused for a moment to turn around and check if Conner was following him. His mate got the hint and started down the hill after the other male. 

Noting the other members of the pack milling about the meadow, Tim headed for the treeline and the edge of the woods. 

He darted to the side and behind the trunk of pine bending under the snow. Conner skidded right past him on all fours, stopped, stood back up on two legs, looked back at his mate. Tim gave a taunting little 'arf!', and swished his tail provocatively. Oh. Now Conner got what was going on here. He couldn't really smile with his face elongated into the a muzzle, but his lips still stretched into a sharp toothy grin. He stalked towards his mate, reaching clawed, sinewy hands down to grab his mate and pull the other male against him. 

But the moment before Conner got his hands on him, Tim jumped out of his grasp. 

He looked back at the half-wolf with another 'arf'. As if to say, 'Oh, you thought it was gonna be that easy?'

Conner got back down on all fours.

Tim smacked him in the face with his tail, then ran off again between the trees. The half-wolf flowing after him. 

This time when Conner caught up to him, Tim didn't resist. He lifted his tail and pressed his backside against Conner's abdomen. The half-wolf released a groan that -were his throat still human shaped- would have been a moan. But he was still wearing his pants. So the moment Tim felt the bulge of his arousal press against his hindquarters, he pulled away again. He looked at the trousers keeping the other werewolf covered, gave a disapproving snort, and turned his nose up at his mate. 

Conner immediately began tearing at the fabric of his pants. Ripping long gashes in the material with his claws. Pulling it off in fraying strips. Shredding the clothing until he was finally open and exposed. When he looked up again, Tim was running again. The half-wold gave a frustrated little groan and charged after his mate again. 

With his superior speed -his unearthly speed- it would have been easy for Conner to catch and hold Tim if he really wanted to. But that wasn't how this game was played. Tim wasn't trying to escape the other male, and Conner didn't need to capture him. Just wait for Tim to decide this little game of chasey-chasey they were playing was played out submit. 

This time, Tim let out a groan of approval when his mate caught up to him. Grabbing his hind quarters jerking the smaller wolf back against his abdomen. Tim rolled his hips, rubbing his backside against Conner's rigid desire. Now it was Conner's turn to groan with appreciation at the feel of his mate's fur and the skin of his hole sliding against his needy and sensitive organ. Tim pulled away just enough to turn around and lick at his mate's thick erection -but paused when he noted something that wasn't there in his human form. 

At the base of the shaft, an extra swell of flesh that was thicker than the rest. A knot of skin and nerves. A knot! Like a dog's -more accurately, a wolf's. 

Tim stared at it.

Conner's dick was already so big as it was. But that knot was twice its thickness. How was Tim ever going to fit that inside him? And in this new and still unfamiliar wolf body. Perhaps Tim paused on it too long, because Conner grew impatient. He grabbed Tim by the shoulder and forced the other male to turn back around. Seizing his tail and pulling Tim's backside up. Bending down, Conner licked at his mate's entrance. Wetting the whole region. Making it slippery. When he was confident his mate was wet enough, Conner positioned himself at Tim's entrance. Holding the tail up with one clawed hand, and guiding his dick in with the other. 

With a canid groan that was not entirely different from a human moan, Tim arched his back, making it easier for his mate to slide inside. Sinking his mate's organ into his body until he felt Conner's knot press agains this entrance. That was when Tim paused. 

The half-wolf growled in impatience with a healthy dollop of frustration. He grabbed Tim's lupine hips with both hands and jerked him backwards against him, jamming his knot inside with reckless need. 

Tim released a howl of surprise as his insides were stretched more than he was used to. It was not an entirely unpleasant feeling. Conner's knot swollen inside him, a needy pressure tying them together. The newly made werewolf released a very human-like moan. It sounded odd coming from his lupine throat, but Tim didn't care. He wiggled his hips, urging his mate to continue. 

Conner was all too happy to oblige. Thrusting his own hips. Wiggling his cock inside his mate until he found that spot that made Tim moan, and gasp, and keen like a well practiced whore. The sounds he made were different and strange in his wolf-form. But not wholly unpleasant. They encouraged Conner, prompting him to thrust harder, move faster. 

Tim howled again at the increased pace, panting as his mate thrust into him. That thick knot swelling until it was good and lodged inside him. Locked. Tied. Tim howled again. 

Leaning down on all fours, Conner braced his clawed hands on the snowy ground for better leverage as he pounded his mate from behind. Jerking his hips, pulling Tim with his with every backwards stroke, his thick knot keeping them locked together as the Alpha moved inside him. 

Moans, and growls, groans and whimpers, keens and gasps, all escaped Tim's mouth at his mate's relentless onslaught. All sounds of appreciation and pleasure. Urging Conner to continue. Thrust harder, faster. Go deeper. Fuck, Conner, fuck! Fuck me! Hit that spot. There! Right there! Tim wished his lupine throat would let him form words. He wanted to tell his mate how fucking amazing it was. How much he loved that fucking huge knot tight inside him. Filling him. Locking them together so that even the backstroke of the half-wolf's powerful thrusts couldn't pry them apart. 

But all that escaped him were howls of ecstasy. 

Conner bent his own snout down, licking at Tim's muzzle, his nose and teeth. The closest approximation to a kiss that they could manage in these forms. 

Lifting one paw, Conner stroked the fur of Tim's back. Feeling the scars on the skin that made the thick dark fur uneven and messy. 

Tim groaned with appreciation and he jerked his hips backwards, urging his mate to keep ploughing him. Flexing his muscles. Squeezing Conner's knot. 

The half-wolf had never knotted before and when he felt Tim's already tight walls press tighter around that sensitive cluster of nerves he couldn't hold himself back. Conner came. Thick, and hot, and lots of it. Everything he'd been holding in, pent up since Tim's fever broke and he refused to lay with his mate as punishment for converting him. Conner's large body shuddered as his organ continued to spurt ropes of cum. Pumping his mate full of every last drop he'd been holding in. 

Conner slumped over. Bracing all four paws on the ground to keep from crushing his mate under his weight. 

Tim tried to pull away, only to discover that they were still tied together by that impossibly thick knot. He let out a yip of surprise. 

Curling one arm under his mate's belly, Conner turned them both on their sides. Laying down in the snow to rest after their excretions. It had been so long since they made love, their body's were barely used to it anymore. Conner curled his long half-man half-wolf body around the smaller werewolf, still locked together, and let the euphoria of his orgasm carry him off to sleep. He'd never slept through the full moon before.


	10. Warming Back Up

The first thing Tim became aware of was that he was freezing cold.

The second thing Tim became aware of was that he was naked. 

He was freezing cold and naked. He didn't realize he was still outside until he opened his eyes and saw the snowy meadow surrounded by naked trees bathed in buttery morning light. His teeth chattered as he climbed to his feet, arms wrapping around himself in a vain effort to stave off the chill. Tim was back in his normal human form. He didn't have a wolf's fur or the magic of the moon to keep him warm. He was naked and far from the manor and didn't exactly remember which direction it was in. 

But the worst part was that Conner was nowhere to be seen and Tim had no idea where his mate had gone. 

His teeth chattered loudly as he looked around at the tracks in the snow. They crisscrossed over the whole meadow. But if he could find the pack's original path from the previous night, he could find his way back to Luthor manor and a hot fire, and a bath. And then find Conner and give him the chewing out of a lifetime. (That may, or may not be a metaphor.) Where did he get off, knotting in him with his weird half-wolf penis, and then just disappearing the next morning!? What the actual fuck!?

Just as he came to this decision, however, a coat dropped down on him from above. 

Tim looked up to see none other than his half-wolf mate floating down in front of the morning sun. He was fully clothed, too. Jerk! He hovered just above the snow, holding a pair of boots. Tim glared at him as he pulled the coat on. 

“You know, instead of leaving me in the snow and flying to the manor to get clothes, you could have just picked me up and flown us both to the manor.” He informed his mate. 

Conner blinked for a moment, then gaped. He honestly hadn't thought of that. It never even occurred to him that his mate might have preferred he pick him up and carry him over the woods rather than letting him sleep -on the dirt, in the snow. Tim stared at the other man. Conner was sweet and affectionate, but sometimes he could be a complete and total moron! Idiot! But then, that was just one of the things that made him... him. Tim wouldn't want his mate any other way. 

“Are you mad at me again?” Conner asked, sounding genuinely worried. They had just made up last night. At least, he assumed they made up. The knotting didn't really feel like 'angry sex'. Of course, reflected the half-wolf, it could have also just been 'OMG! Full moon! Wolf form! I have a tail! First transformation! Conner's got a knot!' sex. That was a thing, right? He was pretty sure that was a thing. 

“No.” Tim assured him. “I just want to get out of the cold. May I have those?”

He held his hand out for the boots. 

Almost as if he'd forgotten he was holding them, Conner passed the boots he'd brought to his mate. Tim was a little disappointed to discover that his mate hadn't thought to bring socks as well. But boots were still boots and kept the snow -and more importantly, the cold- out of his feet. Tim rather liked having toes at the ends of his feet. 

Wearing boots now, a coat the only thing covering his nakedness, Tim let Conner gather him up into his arms and fly them back to Luthor Manor. 

“Why wasn't Lex out with us last night?” Tim asked as the manor came into view. 

Conner landed just out of sight of the property, just behind the treeline. Tim looked down at the snow as it crunched under his boots. He would have preferred it if he flew them directly into the bedroom -any bedroom. So long as it had a fireplace, some blankets, and a way for servants to bring them hot soup and tea. 

“You noticed my father's bald, right?” Said the half-wolf. “He doesn't have any hair. Well, in his wolf form doesn't have any fur. Its a little too cold for him to be running around the woods at night.”

“Its a little cold for me to be out right now wearing only your coat and boots with no socks.” Tim informed his invulnerable mate whom wasn't affected by temperatures and therefore might not have realized that Tim might need to get warm sooner rather than later. “I wanna sit in front of a fireplace with a blanket and a hot meal.”

“A hot meal?” Conner blinked at his mate. “You're not craving raw meat anymore?”

Tim paused. His breath coming out in a cloud as he sighed. “I guess not. I guess I'm back to normal.” Or, at least, as normal as he could be. He would still always be a werewolf. But he was actually starting to feel a bit more like himself. This was the new normal. 

His teeth chattered. 

Gathering his mate back up in his arms, Conner lifted them both up back into the air and flew them to a window. The half-wolf placed his hand to the closed shutter and Tim heard the click of the latch unlocking itself on the other side. TTK really was a useful talent. They floated in through the now open window and Tim instantly recognized it as the same room he'd woken up from his fever in. His mate's bedroom. Their bedroom now, he supposed. 

Conner set Tim down and closed the window behind them. 

The former hunter went straight to the empty fireplace and started arranging logs and kindling in the grate. He looked for flint, match, or tinder. But was confused to find none. The half-wolf knelt down beside his mate, an amused half-smile on his face. 

“I do this.” Conner informed him, before turning his eyes on the wood his mate had arranged in the fireplace. His eyes glowed red and the kindling burst into flames, catching the larger logs. Within moment, they had a roaring fire.

Tim turned a mocking glare on his mate. “You have too many powers.” he informed him. “Its absurd. I mean, really!”

Conner only grinned at him. “But I'll always be able to keep you warm.”

That was true. The room was already heating up. Tim kicked the boots off, they were really uncomfortable without socks, and then shrugged the coat off his shoulders. He stood naked in front of the fire, apprenticing the heat on his bare skin. Conner licked his lips. He was also appreciating his mate's bare skin. So many scars crisscrossing and intersecting. It gave Tim's skin the appearance of living marble. Placing one arm around his mate's waist, Conner leaned in for a kiss. Tim leaned up, welcoming the attention. 

But before their lips could meat, a loud and intrusive growl shattered the moment. 

Both men looked down at Tim's stomach. 

“Well, I did say I wanted a hot meal.” Tim tried to force an amused smile on his face. 

Conner looked so disappointed at having the moment spoiled. After days of Tim being angry with him and refusing to see him, he finally had his lover back. The half-wolf suppressed a growl of frustration. “I'll see what the kitchen staff has ready.”

And he was out of the room in a blur and a rush of air. The door slamming shut behind him. 

Tim turned back to the fire. Bracing one hand on the banister for balance, he lifted one foot and held it close to the flames to work some heat back into it, then did the same thing for the other. One nice thing that would come from moving to Conner's tropical island in the middle of the Pacifico would be that he'd never again have to deal with snow, extreme cold, or the possibility of frostbite. Not that Tim was particularly close to frostbite right now, but it was a thing that happened -not to him, but it happened. 

It didn't take Conner long to reappear with a tray bearing a bowl of hot soup, warm toast, and a cup of tea. 

Turning away from the fire, Tim took the tray from his mate and sank down to sit on the floor in front of the hearth. He took a more critical look at the tray, then back up at the other man. “You didn't get anything for yourself.”

Conner just shrugged. “Not particularly hungry.” He paused. Took another long, appreciative look at Tim's nakedness. “Not hungry for food. But I wouldn't be opposed to putting something else in my mouth.”

Tim was halfway through ripping a piece of toast in half when he paused to look up at his mate. Conner was stripping off his waistcoat. Tim watched him shrug it off his shoulders, then reach his hands up to slowly unlace his shirt and slip that up over his head. When his hands moved down to his trousers, Tim propped his elbow on a knee and rested his chin in his hand. “Well, I hope you're not planning to have sex. At least not until I've had my breakfast and warmed up a bit.”

“Sex would warm you up.” 

Unimpressed, Tim dipped the toast in his soup, swirled it around to absorb the broth and then popped it in his mouth. He savored the salty, meaty flavor for a moment before swallowing. He looked up at his mate. Shifting his position, Tim moved the tray so that he could stretch his legs out in front of him, and wiggled his toes. “My feet are freezing. You could try warming them up for me.”

Conner groaned. “Feet aren't sexy.”

Amazingly, Tim was unsympathetic. “You're the one who left me outside in the snow when you could have just as easily carried me back to the manor and put me in a warm bed. You could have even crawled in with me and maybe sex would have been the first thing we did when I woke up. But you didn't.”

“I didn't wanna wake you.”

“So now you have to work for the sex.” Tim continued as if his mate hadn't spoken. He lifted one foot and ran his toes up Conner's leg. 

With a sigh, Conner knelt down in front of the other man's extended legs. He took one foot in his lap and began massaging it. Tim wasn't exaggerating. His feet were cold! Conner rubbed his hand over the top of the foot, hoping the friction would heat it up faster. He rolled his thumb under the ball of the foot, earning a soft purr from the former hunter. Tim fluttered his lashes, it felt so much better when someone else was massaging his feet after a long night out. He dipped another piece of bread into the soup. 

Moving his attention to the other foot, Conner rubbed his knuckles up and down the underside. Running circles around the heel, skirting around the arch, and curling over the ball. 

The soup had cooled enough by this point that Tim could hold the bowl in his hands. He ate while his mate rubbed and warmed his chilled feet. Slurping to help the broth cool just a bit more before swallowing. This was great. He should have made Conner his little foot massage slave days ago. Tim swallowed his sip of soup and let out a moan of pleasure. It was unclear whether it was pleasure from eating the hot food, or pleasure from his mate's attention on his feet. 

“You like that?” Conner asked, instantly assuming his mate's moan of pleasure was because of him. 

Tim just took another sip of soup and nodded. 

Emboldened, Conner took the foot he was holding and popped the big toe in his mouth. 

Tim nearly spit out his soup and had to swallow quickly to keep from chocking. The moment his throat was clear, he let out an uncontrollable laugh. “Wha- what are you duh-doing?” It tickled. Conner's mouth on his toes tickled, and Tim could not control the laughter -or the shaking of his body. He put the bowl of soup back down before he spilled on himself. “Stop that!”

Conner paused just long enough to grin at his mate and ask, “Why?”

Then went right back to sucking on Tim's toes. 

“It tickles!” The other man snapped and attempted to kick his mate. But Conner was too strong, his grip on Tim's ankle to firm. All the form hunter managed was an uncomfortable flexing of his muscles. “I thought you said feet weren't sexy!”

“Feet aren't. But your face and the way you're twitching is.” He moved back to the first foot and began sucking the toes of that one instead. 

“You're so mean!” Tim laughed through tears. Back arching, muscles twitching. 

He pushed the tray of soup and tea all the way away from him and laid on his back. If he couldn't get the other man to stop, then he should at least be comfortable while while his mate tortured him. No sooner had he laid down, however, than he writhed with over stimulation. Breath hitching every third laugh. His free leg swinging up to kick Conner in the face. 

“Oh!” Tim laughed. “Sorry.”

Good. It served him right. 

But the invulnerable half-wolf only smiled. A heated, predatory smile. 

He finally released his mate's feet, letting Tim's legs fall back to the floor. Conner crawled over the man, straddling his mate's body and leaning down to kiss him. Tongue slithering out his mouth to flick across Tim's lips, requesting entrance. Tim opened his mouth allowing Conner entrance. Tongues slid together, licking and stating. Conner moaned into his mate's mouth. It had been so long since they kissed like this. For half a moment back when Tim was still mad at him, the half-wolf thought his mate would never kiss him or let him touch him again. Guess the full moon fixes was more powerful than Conner first thought. 

Remembering the previous night, how Tim writhed under him. The shine of moonlight on his dark fur. How tight he was around Conner's knot... he'd never knotted before. It made the half-wolf go hard with remembered pleasure and the desire for an encore. 

Their mouths parted and a string of saliva dripped between the lips. 

Tim was panting. “That not usually how most people react to getting kicked in the head.”

Conner leaned back into a proper sitting position, hands unlacing his pants. “I can think of a way for you to make it up to me.”

Cobalt blue eyes drifted down to watch his mate unlace his trousers and pull out his already stiff and thick erection. Tim licked his lips. He sat up, shifting his legs under him so that he was laying on his stomach instead, propping himself up on his elbows. Tim leaning his head down and took Conner's dick in his mouth. Flicking his tongue over lapping up the precum greedily. It had been so long since he'd had a mouthful of cock and sucking down the delicious flavor of his mate's cum. 

Conner moaned with appreciation. “That's not what I had in mind.” He sighed with appreciation all the same. Tim had a wonderful mouth. “I was hoping you'd just let me fuck your ass.”

Tim brought his face up slowly. Oh, so, slowly... His mouth letting go of Conner's cock with a smack of lips. A string of saliva dripped from the head of his mate's dick to Tim's lips. “My ass needs a rest after last night.” 

The other man couldn't help the smile that pulled at his lips. “Your ass was amazing last night.”

“I didn't know knotting was a thing we did.” Tim admitted. 

Academically, he knew it had to be a possibility. But, as a hunter, his study of werewolves was limited to diet, habits, lunar cycle, how the curse was transferred, vital anatomy, and most efficient methods of killing. He knew male werewolves had knots in their wolf forms. It just didn't occur to Tim that his mate would be knotting inside him if they ever chose to have sex in their wolf (or in Conner's case, half-wolf) forms. But, hot damn! If that wasn't the bust fucking fuck they'd ever had! 

“I always hoped my mate would enjoy my knot.”

Tim ran a hand through his mop of dark hair, resting his chin in the other hand. “You can't transform without the full moon?”

“No.” Conner shook his head. He pulled his pants the rest of the way off, hoping his mate would get the hint and return some attention to his needy cock. “Believe me, I've tried. My father has spent hours with me, teaching me how to transform. I know how. I just can't do it. Its ironic, because you can do it, you just don't know how yet.”

“That's not ironic, its just coincidental.” Tim corrected. 

“Smart ass.” Conner muttered, grabbing his mate by the head and forcing him back down on his swollen and neglected erection. 

Tim swallowed the huge cock, sucking him down until he felt the head press against the back of his throat. He held it there for a moment, polishing the shaft with his tongue, drinking down his precum. Then Tim came back up, gasping for breath. “What do I get out of this? Since my ass isn't up to being fucked just yet.”

Conner smirked. “Get on the bed.” He commanded. “We'll sixty-nine like we did back at Batman's house.”

Smiling, Tim climbed to his feet and slowly sauntered over to the bed. Intensionally slow. He knew what effect the sight of the firelight on his naked body had on his mate. Tim lifted one knee, leaning onto the edge of the bed, back arching so that his ass stuck out. Pert, and perky, and tight. He was teasing Conner and he knew it. Then Tim paused, a thought occurring to him. He looked back at his mate, one eyebrow quirked. 

“Wait, have you been getting off on the fact that you fucked my face in Batman's house?”

Conner only smiled back. Smug. But also dopy and goofy. Cute. But not sexy in the least. “What werewolf can boast about fucking his mate's face in Batman's house?”

Tim climbed all the way onto the bed and laid down, facing his mate. Waiting for the other man to come join him. 

“I suppose you're also the only werewolf who can boast about fucking and converting Batman's son.” Tim added. His tone was flat. Neither amused, nor irritated. He wasn't approving or condemning the fact. Just acknowledging it.

“My father might have mentioned it once, or twice, or a dozen times while you were still ill.” Conner admitted. 

He crossed the space between them and crawled onto the bed to join his mate. Also laying on his side, but facing the opposite direction. His mouth poised in front of Tim's own stiff and neglected cock, its own bead of precum dripping from its tip. Conner flicked his tongue out to lap it up. His mate tasted so good! It had been so long since Tim let him anywhere near his cock. Conner drank it down like the first drops of cool clear water after wading through a desert of thirst. 

Tim moaned at the sensation, not ready for his mate's enthusiasm. Whatever he was about to say was instantly forgotten at the feel of Conner's mouth around him. He fisted his hands in the other man's hair, nails scraping his scalp, pulling the hair, forcing his face farther down on his shaft, pressing his length down Conner's throat. Unlike Tim, the half-wolf had no gag reflex and took his deep in his throat. Swallowing with appreciation. A slight nudging of his own hips the only indication that Conner expected something in return and wasn't content to be the only one getting his face fucked this morning. 

All to happy to oblige, Tim took his mate's thick organ in his mouth. Polishing it with his tongue. Getting it wet and slippery so that his lips slid over it like silk. 

Conner moaned around Tim's length. The sound rumbling up from his throat, vibrating around the cock that was lodged there. The sensation prompting a reciprocating moan of pleasure from Tim, the sound echoing the vibrations around his own organ. He pulled back enough to take a deep breath. Conner might not need to breath quite as much as a normal human or werewolf, but Tim did. Lungs full, he forced his face back down his mate's length. Forcing himself to take it as deep in his throat as his body would allow. Sucking his down. The thickness pressing uncomfortably on insides that were not meant to swallow something to large. Blocking Tim's airways, his body threatening to heave the fat invasive organ back out. 

But Tim suppressed these impulses. Making a conscious effort to override them. Using the pleasure of his own length so deep in his mate's throat as a distraction. He wanted Conner inside him. Last night not withstanding, it had been so long since he's enjoyed the pleasured of his mate. His sounds. His tastes. His sensations. Tim didn't really realize just how starved he was for Conner-cock until his was balls deep in his throat. No matter how angry his mate made him in the future -and he knew Conner would definitely find a way to piss him off in the future- abstinence was not going to be how he showed it anymore. It punished himself as much as it punished his mate. 

The sensation was so much! Tim had never deep throated the half-wolf before. It was so tight! Almost like Tim's body had been that first time. Virgin tight. Unused and pristine. Squeezing him. Milking him. Drawing out every think milky drop of need, desire, and want. Conner wasn't meaning to cum. He felt the pleasure building but tried to hold it in. Prolong with wonderful exchange. But Tim was too good with his mouth. The feel of tight throat too wonderful. The half-wolf couldn't hold back and he came. Ropes of cum shooting down his mate's throat. 

He moaned embarrassingly loud. 

Tim gaged and couched. Heaving. No longer able to suppress his reflect. He spit up thick gulps of Conner's spent seed. (It was not sexy.)

“You cum a lot.” Tim groaned when his airway was clear again. 

“Only for you.” Conner assured him. 

“Next time we do this, pull out before you do.” Tim commanded. Tone leaving no room for argument. “Cum on my face instead. Or my chest. I can lick it off my body.”

If he hadn't just cum two seconds ago, the half-wolf would have shot off another one at those words. Just the idea of it. Tim covered in his sticky and pungent spunk. Languishing in the feel of it on his skin. Licking it off himself. Conner found himself licking his own lips. 

Tim shifted his position so that he was reclining on his back. “Ya know, I haven't gotten to cum yet.”

His mate gave a predatory grin at that reminder and crawled over the other man's lower half. “Well, I am going to swallow every drop.”

Conner closed his mouth over Tim's still hard and needy erection. Moving slower this time. Last night he was rough and needy. Impatient and quick. His desired to knot inside his mate that had denied him so long overriding any other thoughts. This morning he wanted to tease and caress. Taste and savor. Conner took Tim all in. Sliding down his mate's length slowly, oh so slowly, until his nose flattened against the other man's abdomen. Then he came back up again -just as slowly. All the up until the only part of his mouth still on his mate's organ her his lips pressing a dripping kiss to the tip. He flicked his tongue over the tip, teasing the sensitive nerves there, pressing his tongue into the slit. Making Tim moan and writhe on the bed with the sensations. 

Then Conner was lowering his mouth back down. Sucking as he went. Pulling Tim into his throat. Pulling Tim close to his climax, only to slide him back out again before he could fall over the edge. Conner smirked at the whimper of desperation his mate released. He lowered his mouth down again, taking him as deep as he could go. Tim thrust up, meeting Conner's throat, trying to push himself deeper than his own body would allow. Lips and teeth scraped his abdomen. Tim was as deep in his mate as he could go without detaching from the rest of his body. 

Then Conner swallowed. 

The muscles of his throat tightening and trying to pull him in deeper even though both knew it was impossible. Conner swallowed again, and then Tim was coming. Sitting up with the force of his orgasm. Hands fisting in his mate's hair. Forcing his face down. Thrust his dick with each spurt of release. 

Conner drank it all down greedily. 

Finally, Tim relaxed. Laying back down. His body spent as his mind drifted in a euphoric fog. Conner sucked every last from out of his spent cock before finally raising his head and crawling up his mate's body to lay next to him fro proper after-sex cuddles. 

“I missed this.” He muttered into Tim's shoulder. 

“Mm.” The other man sighed, curling into Conner's body. “Next time I'm mad at you, I'll make you do manual labor, or dirty jobs, or something.” 

“Of you could just not get mad at me.” Suggested the half-wolf. 

Tim smiled into his chest, silently laughing. He was a realist. Relationships weren't perfect. There would always be disagreements, fights, and anger. Just, nothing as big as what they'd just pulled through. Probably. “We'll see.” He muttered. “If you behave yourself.”

Now it was Conner's turn to laugh. “That's a shame. I'm known for misbehaving.”

“Me too.” Tim sighed, curling more into his mate's embrace. He was so warm. Like the light of the sun. Tim just wanted to fall back asleep. Safe in his mate's arms. 

And that's exactly what he did.


	11. Can't Learn Anything from Hunter Books

This time, Conner was the one to wake up naked and alone. Except he woke up in the comfort of his feather mattress and woolen blankets rather than dirt and snow. 

“Tim...?” He inquired of the empty room. 

Unsurprisingly, there was no answer. With all his superior senses and perceptions, Conner already knew the room was empty before he even opened his eye. He stretched his awareness, reaching out with his senses to try and detect where his mate had gone. Left the manor again, maybe? Strolling through town? Or back at Kal-El's house? Conner caught the even, soothing rhythm of Tim's heartbeat and was pleased to realize it was much closer to home. Still at home, actually. Downstairs. In the opposite wing of the manor. In his father's library. 

Conner imagined his mate seated next to a window, reading in the afternoon light. One book in his lap, a stack of yet more books as tall as he was next to him, waiting to be read. 

That was exactly how Conner found him moments later, after slipping on some pants and a robe. 

Tim was indeed sitting by a window for light, exactly how Conner imagined. Reading one impossibly large book. It was laid out on a table, not in his lap. But there was a sizable stack of other books resting on the table. Not blocking Tim's light, but still within reach. 

The half-wolf hovered in the door, watching his mate. How his brows were knitted in concentration. The steady movement of his eyes as he read the lines of the pages. A slight quirk of the eyebrow when he read something of particular interest. Conner watched him look up from the book he was reading at the stack he had on reserve. Drawing a finger down the column until it stopped on a particular title. Pulling the book out of the middle of the stack and cracking it open. Leafing through the pages, looking for specific information. He looked from the second book to the first one, rereading and cross-referencing. His mate was doing research. 

Conner came into the room fully. Crossing the space between them, he came up behind the other man. Putting a hand on either shoulder, he leaned down and nibbled on the top of Tim's ear. 

“I was wondering when you'd come say 'hi'.” The former hunter turned a page without turning to look at his mate. He had work to do. Things to learn. “I scented you from the hall. You stink of sex.”

“I smell like you.” Conner argued. 

“Apparently, I'm sexy.”

“You certainly are.” He turned his nose into his mate's hair, inhaling deeply -and caught the distinct odors of fresh water, animal fat, and lye. Underneath it was his natural body odor of sandalwood and spice, but the scent of their lovemaking was gone. “Did you take a bath?”

“I was dirty.” He looked up from his main book again, pulling another from his stack of cross-references and cracking it open. “I wish I had my field journal. But there's no chance we can go back to Gotham and get it.”

“If you want I could fly us-”

“No!” Tim cut him off, actually looking up from his books this time. Turning around in his chair to glare up at his mate. His cobalt eyes stern and serious. “We can't go back there. I can't go back there. I've been missing for at least two week by my count. I can't just show up with a smile on my face and explain that I'm just grabbing some stuff from my room.”

He thought about also reminding Conner that his father was Batman and that Batman would know that Tim was a werewolf now. Never mind the fact his journal would be the first thing Bruce would read the moment it became apparent he was missing. Tim wrote so much about Conner in his journal. A person reading it wouldn't need to be the Known-World's Greatest Detective to instantly realize that his disappearance was on account of his werewolf lover. That Tim was either already dead, or converted into a werewolf himself. But even without the journal, all Bruce would have to do would be to take one look at him and know that Tim had been converted. 

They could not go back to Gotham and Wayne manor. Not even to get something as small and innocuous as his journal. 

“I could get you a new one.” Conner offered. “The shops'll be open again after the Feast of the Epiphany. I haven't gotten you anything for Christmas yet anyway. I'll get you a brand new journal to start your brand new life.”

But it wouldn't have all the knowledge and information his old journal from his old life had. That was what Tim wished he had. A journal was just a collection of velum or paper pages. It was the stuff written on those pages that was important. But Conner's heart was in the right place. Tim forced a smile on his face. “Thank you. I'd like that.” A pause. “What would you like me to get you for Christmas?”

Conner missed a beat. 

His adams apple bobbing as his answer caught in his throat. 

Tim raised an eyebrow at him. 

Conner coughed. “We, uh, we haven't really talked about it much. We kinda glanced over it at Kal-El's place but- but all you really said was a list of stuff you have to do before we leave. You never... you never actually said you still wanted to come with me.” 

Now it was Tim's turn to miss a beat. 

“Oh.”

“Oh?” Conner echoed, not sure how he should take that... response. It wasn't an answer. Then again, Conner hadn't actually asked a question. “Tim, I want you to come with me. I wanna leave Hunterville and I want you to run away with me.”

“I don't want to stay in Hunterville indefinitely.” The other man agreed. Tim's expression turned pensive. Critical. Calculating. Conner was beginning to recognize it as his mate analyzing a situation. Weighing options. Trying to decide on the best course of action. Finally, Tim nodded. “Moving to your island in the Pacifico is the most practical choice. You've already found a place. You can use the time I'm taking figuring out my new wolf abilities to settle the land and build us a house.” 

“I can do that.” Conner nodded. But he didn't miss that that wasn't actually a 'yes I want to go with you'. It was a 'going with you is the best I can expect'.

Perhaps some of his thoughts showed on his face. Because Tim pushed back the chair and climbed to his feet. He wrapped both arms around the other man's waist, pulling them closer together. Stretching up on his tip-toes, Tim pressed a tender but chase kiss to Conner's lips. When their mouths parted again, Tim flashed a reassuring smile. 

“When I say moving to your island is the best option, I mean your island is the best option. The island, not you. You're not an 'option', you are a 'constant'. You are my mate. Even when I was mad at you, I could not stop thinking about you. When I was alone in my room I wanted to invite you in, when I was walking through town I wished I was strolling with you. I hated you for what you did to me, but I still wanted to be with you. I'm sure its the same for you. I know if I decided I didn't want to go to your island, you would follow me wherever I did decide to go. We will always be together. We might as well be together somewhere warm and sunny.”

They would always be together. Tim wanted them to always be together. That did make Conner feel better. He smiled. 

His mate successfully reassured, Tim sat back down in front of his books. “Now, you're more familiar with your father's library than I am. I tried to pull out all the books on lycanthropy and shapeshifting I could find.” He indicated the stack of books on the table. “But can you think of any that I missed?”

Conner took a look at his stack of books. They had long, dry, and boring titles like 'A Comprehensive Study of Lycanthropy and Metamorphosis of the Human Body' or 'Lunar Cycles and Patterns of Werewolf Behaviors'. The half-wolf had never read a single one of them. The fact that they were dry and boring and he had no patience of them aside, they were studies. Studies. Not first hand accounts. They weren't written by werewolves. 

“These are all hunter books.” He said, blinking in confusion. He looked at his mate. “You can't learn how to shift from those.”

“Then can you suggest the right books to me?” Tim asked. 

Conner sighed, leaning down so that his mouth was once again brushing his mate's ear. But he didn't nibble this time. Breath hot on Tim's skin, Conner muttered, “You can't learn to shift from a book.”

Now it was Tim's turn to blink. He couldn't learn something from a book? No. Conner was wrong. Books and research was the answer to everything! If it couldn't be learned from the book then it was because he just hadn't found the correct book. 

Seeing the skeptically perplexed expression on his mate's face, Conner bent down to give the other man a chase kiss of his own. When he pulled away again, he said, “Shifting is something you have to learn from another wolf.” Another kiss, this one slightly less chase. Open mouthed, but without tongue. “I could teach you.”

Tim pulled away, still skeptical. “But you can't shift.”

“But I know how.” Conner reminded him. He pulled Tim back. Flushing him against his body. 

Tim shifted his legs so that his thighs rubbed against his mate's. Conner practically purred at the contact. Tim smirked up at him. “Somehow, I don't think we'd get much actual training done.”

Conner growled, one hand going down to cup the other man's ass, the other hand drifting up to cradle the back of his head. He dipped Tim back just a bit and sank his lips down on his mate's. Tongue plunging into his mouth with aggressive desire. Tim didn't seem to mind, as his own tongue slithered out to taste and explore inside Conner's mouth. The half-wolf moaned with appreciation. Then Tim pulled away abruptly. A string of saliva dripping between them. 

“See?” Said the former hunter. “I can't get anything done when you're around, and you can't concentrate when I'm around.” 

“I can concentrate on plenty!” Conner tried to argue. 

“Yeah, like your dick in my ass.” Tim scoffed, unimpressed. 

“Or yours in mine.” The other man shot back. It had been a while since his mate had dominated him and Conner would be lying if he said he didn't miss the feel of a strong and commanding man inside him. “Maybe... maybe once you've learned to shift, you could knot inside me?”

Tim flushed at the suggestion. The idea hadn't even occurred to him. But now that Conner suggested it, he realized that he really, really liked the idea. In his wolf form, or even just halfway between wolf and human, he would have a knot! Conner's knot felt so good inside him during the full moon. So thick! Filling his tight space completely. Tying them together so that it was hard to tell where one of them ended and the other began. Tim licked his lips, he liked the idea of knotting in Conner, he liked the idea very much. 

“We'll see.” He managed to croak out. 

Conner smirked. He knew he'd won. He leaned down again for another kiss.

But no sooner had their lips met than another person barged into the library, disturbing their privacy and totally ruining the mood. 

“Will you two stop mounting each other in every room of the house!” Lex snapped at them. He glared at his son until Conner demurred, taking a step away from his mate and lowering his eyes. Lex nodded, satisfied with the half-wolf's submission, before he turned his attention to Tim. (Like hell was Tim gonna offer his submission to Lex mother fucking Luthor!) “Now that your infantile tantrums are over, its time you learned how to be a real wolf. Come with me.”

Conner raised his head at that. “Father, I was going to-”

“You were going to take a bath.” Lex cut him off. “You stink of sex. At least your mate understand basic modesty.”

At that comment Tim met Luthor's eyes challengingly. “Actually, I was planning to have very loud, wet, and violent public sex with Conner in the courtyard. Really tear up his insides where the whole household can see.”

Conner tried very hard not to snort with laughter at his mate's remark. Turning his head to the side and putting a hand over his mouth to hide the smirk. Words could not express how endearing and gratifying it was that his lover enjoyed vexing his father as much as Conner did. They were perfect for each other. 

Luthor only scowled. 

Tim shrugged, determined to appear unconcerned. He indicated the books he'd already collected on the table. “I've already started studying how to be a -as you say- 'real werewolf'.”

With a glance, Luthor noted the books his son's mate had selected and dismissed them just as quickly. “Those are all hunter books. There's nothing to be learned there.”

“Then why do you have them?” Tim asked. Partially just to be difficult and try Luthor's patients further, but also because the former hunter genuinely wanted to know. 

“I find them to be an enlightening insight into the enemy mind.” Luthor informed him, determined to appear calm and not let his son's little upstart mate get to him. Like hell was he going to give Batman's son the satisfaction of seeing that he bothered him. “An insight that you already have. After all, less than a month ago, you were the enemy.”

Tim crossed his arms over his chest, shifting his weight. Trying to look casual. “This seems like something you should have addressed when Conner first brought me here. Not almost a week later. After I've had the opportunity to learn the names of everyone in your pack. Memorize their faces. Work out the hierarchy, and such. Seems kinda irresponsible if you ask me. As this pack's Alpha, they all trust you to look out for their safety.”

Luthor continued to glare at the younger man. Tim just glared back, meeting the older man's silent challenge and refusing to back down. He was no stranger to tangling with intimidating and foul tempered authority figures. Compared to Bruce, Lex Luthor was a light weight. Tim wasn't about to demur and offer his submission to him! 

At Tim's side, Conner looked from between his mate to his father and back again. Wait, when did this stop being funny? He wasn't quite sure which side he should take. Support his father and the Alpha of his pack -a pack that he planned to leave- as was his job as a Beta. Or side with his mate, his partner for life and the one he planned to start a pack of his own with eventually. Things would be so much easier if Tim just offered his submission. Why wasn't Tim offering his submission? Father was Alpha, after all. 

“I have managed to keep this pack both safe and in power in this city these past three years.” Luthor informed him.

“No. Kal-El has.” Tim argued back. “Three years ago, not long after Conner showed up, he ordered Batman to stay the hell away from Hunterville and keep all other hunters out as well.”

Luthor hadn't known that. He blinked at Tim, startled. Unable to hide his surprise. He might have stolen Kal's teeth and made a child with him. He might have wanted Kal as a mate like Conner wanted (and got) Tim as a mate. But the two of them didn't actually talk. They weren't actually friends. He didn't know Kal-El was actively protecting Conner, and by extension, Lex and his pack. 

“Face it, Lex.” Sensing the weakness, Tim dog-piled on it. “You're pretty useless without Kal-El. You're not even really a real Alpha. Last night during the full moon, Conner was Alpha. Where were you? Curled up in front of a fireplace like and old dog.”

Luthor bared his teeth in a snarl. Canines extending into proper fangs. The fingers of his hands grew longer and sinewy, the nails on the ends of them sharpening into claws. Like fuck was he gonna put up with this level of insubordination from a little upstart who was new to the pack and new to being a wolf, was barely past his fever, and didn't know how to shift. Timothy Drake had needed care and coddling from the moment Conner carried him naked and unconscious through the manor doors. He was practically an Omega! As dependent as he was on the rest of the pack for protection. Now here he was sassing and posturing as if he were about to throw down an Alpha challenge! 

“Are- are you guys gonna fight?” Conner asked, unsure and slightly nervous. He stepped between his father and his mate. “Guys, please don't fight!”

“You're mate needs to learn his place, boy.” Luthor growled. 

Tim assumed a defensive stance. He didn't have his utility belt or any of his weapons. But he was still trained in hand-to-hand combat, knew all the vulnerable places to hit on a werewolf, and now had his own fair share of enhanced strength and durability to go with all those skills. On top of it all, he was young and in his prime. Still strong and spry. Luthor was getting old. Tim was pretty sure he could take him. 

“Stay out of this, Conner.” He shifted his footing to get around the larger male. 

But Conner moved back between them. “Wait, you don't have to do this! Tim and I are leaving. Not right now, but we're going. You don't have to fight!”

Luthor and Tim did not attack each other. But they did not relax their stances either. Luthor did not put away the fangs and claws. The tension was still in the air. But they made no further moves towards a fight. They were poised, but held back their attacks. Their eyes remained locked on each other, but they were listening to Conner. 

The half-wolf ran a hand through his ebony black hair, trying to think of the next thing he should do or say to diffuse this situation. Real Alphas were supposed to be able to command authority and stop in-fighting with a single word. Some great Alpha-in-training he was turning out to be. Couldn't even keep his mate from challenging his father in the first real conversation they had. 

Luckily for the half-wolf, he was saved when another member of the pack poked his head in the library. 

Happerson cleared his throat. “Ahem. Begging everyone's pardon, but Mr. Kent from the Daily Star is here to see you.”

“Tell Clark to wait!” Luthor snapped. “I'm busy!”

Happerson shifted his weight from foot to foot awkwardly. “Uh, begging your pardon, sir, but he's actually here to see Mr. Drake.”

If Luthor was hostile to Tim before, he looked about ready to murder him now. Conner wished Happerson had never barged in. 

Tim smirked as if he'd won something. “Even when he comes to call on your own home its not to see you.”

He brushed past Luthor as if he were below the younger wolf's attention. 

Luthor snarled and might have lunged to attack the former hunter. But strong arms wrapped themselves around him. Strong unbreakable arms that smelled of steel and stars under a dense layer of sandalwood and spice. “Let me go boy!”

Like hell was Conner gonna let his father attack his mate and just stand back and watch. 

Happerson raised an eyebrow, not understanding exactly what it was he just walked in on or what he was witnessing. “Everything okay?”

Conner opened his mouth to say something, but Tim beat him to the explanation. “Can't a man hug his father? Come on Happerson, I need you to show me which parlor you shoved Mr. Kent in.”

He grabbed the older man by the arm and steered him out of the library. Happerson blinked at him as they walked, marveling at the ease and confidence this kid presumed to order him around. Barely out of his fever, fresh from his first full moon, and already barking orders. Happerson looked back down the corridor for some kind of indication from Lex, but neither Luthor had followed them out of the library. So, he lead the former hunter to an informal drawing room on the ground floor not far from the main entrance. 

Kal -or 'Clark'- as he was called here in Hunterville, looked antsy to be in Lex Luthor's house. Tim could smell his anxiety from the door. Of course, now that he knew their history (or at least part of it), he more than understood why. But aside from the waves of nerves rolling off him, Clark looked fairly tame and unassuming. Wearing that same brown trousers and waistcoat that Tim saw him wearing the day they crossed paths in town. His posture that of the clumsy newsman Tim saw walk out of the periodical printer and slip on ice. 

“Tim.” Clark nodded at him. 

“Kal.” Tim nodded back. 

Clark's eyes flicked to Happerson. The former hunter got the message loud and clear. The alienus might have come to see him, but he wasn't going to say anything with Luthor's henchmen still in the room. 

Without looking at the other wolf, Tim nodded. “Thank you, Happerson. You can go.”

“I don't answer to you.” The older man reminded him. 

“But you're not needed here.” Tim shot back, unimpressed. 

Happerson sputtered for a moment. He was not used to being condescended to by new converts who still chased their own tails. But as annoying at it was, being dismissed by Conner's new mate, the former hunter was right. He wasn't needed here, and Mr. Kent would say what he needed to say and leave until he was out of the room. Reluctantly, Happerson backed away, giving the two their share of privacy. 

Tim watched Clark's eyes follow Happerson leave. Even long after he disappeared down the corridor. The alienus must be following him through the walls. Finally, his attention returned to Tim. “You're looking well. Better than the last time I saw you.”

“I feel better than the last time you saw me.” Tim confirmed. “More myself. Or, as much like myself as I'll ever feel again.”

Clark nodded awkwardly. “I'm told the full moon helps a lot for new converts.”

He was told, he didn't actually know. Clark wasn't a werewolf, and since no teeth could penetrate his invulnerable skin, he never would be. For some reason, Tim felt a little awkward discussing the full moon with him. Especially when he remembered just what he did with his mate -Clark's son- during the full moon. “Why are you here, Kal-El?”

Clark scanned the corridor and rooms adjacent to them one more time before answering. “Richard wants to see you. He's been worried sick since you disappeared and needs reassurance that you're okay. I told him I'd ask if you felt up to seeing him.” 

“You told Richard I was here!” Tim took a step back. Dick was the only one who knew about him and Conner. He was the only one who had an idea where he disappear to. Clearly, he told Kal-El, and the alienus confirmed it. But did he also tell Bruce? Did Bruce know? Was this request from Richard to see him and make sure he was okay actually a mission from Bruce to do reconnaissance in Hunterville, count the members of Luthor's pack, learn the full scope of Tim's fate, and plan their attack? Tim had no great loyalty for Luthor's pack, but these people were Conner's family. For his mate's sake, Tim had a bit of a responsibility to keep them safe from his father. 

“He's been worried sick about you.” Clark repeated. “Look, you know why I don't want hunters in my city now. But Richard says he kept your secret in Gotham, so he clearly wasn't a threat to Kon-El then. I'm willing to bring him here to see you. Just him. No one else. Bruce doesn't have to know. He'd stay at my house. He doesn't even have to see Kon-El or Lex's pack. Just let your brother know you're okay.”

Wow, he was actually arguing in favor of bringing a hunter into his city. Richard must have really made an impression on the alienus. Then again, Nightwing did have a way with people. People just trusted him. That was one of the things that made Richard as insufferable a big brother, as he was an affectionate and endearing one.

“Bruce can't know.” Tim said. 

“Richard said the same thing.” Clark nodded. “I don't know why you all think I'm gonna fly straight to him with all your secrets.”

Because Kal-El was Bruce's friend -probably his only true friend.

Then again, maybe it was because the alienus was friends with the Batman that he understood the need to keep all of the Caped Crusader's wayward sons' secrets from him. 

...And Tim really did want to see his brother...

“Just Richard.” He agreed. “Bruce and Jason don't have to know. And we meet on neutral ground. Not anywhere near Luthor manor or your farm.” 

“Okay.” Clark was fine with that. He paused. Then asked, “Is Kon-El around?”

“He's with Luthor.” Tim informed him. He declined to share the fact that he and the older man were nearly about to tear into each other only moments before Clark showed up and Conner had to restrain his father as Tim left the library. 

“Ah.” Nodded the alienus. As much as he wanted to see his son, he did not want to see Luthor. “Well, then I guess I better go...”

Tim expected him to fly from the room, anything to get him out of Luthor's house faster. But he walked. Through the corridor and out the door. Of course, Clark Kent wouldn't fly out of Lex Luthor's house. Kal-El was the strange visitor from a far away world. Clark Kent was just a normal farmer's son whom did a little extra work for a local periodical.


End file.
